


Forsaken

by ZorroRojo



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 61,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZorroRojo/pseuds/ZorroRojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is all Robin's fault. It's her birthday story.</p><p>More h/c, this time Chris and Vin both get the hurt and there's not all that much comfort. I think the later parts are a little sappy, but Robin says my sap meter is mis-calibrated-- I tend to agree with her.</p><p>Originally Posted April 2004</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forsaken

**Author's Note:**

> Just the normal stuff. Violence, adult themes, melodrama. Again, another story written for a birthday story for the bnb adult list. They seem to be the only ones I finish.
> 
> I swear I write stories other than h/c, I just don't finish them.

*****

“Well?”

“Looks like four headed south, toward the border,” Vin said, peering up from under the brim of his hat.

Chris shifted on his horse; his backside was killing him after three days of hard riding with hardly a rest. At least they’d gotten the gold. And three of the murdering thieves weren’t going to be around to kill anyone else. “We go after them,” Chris said with a nod to Vin, then reined in his horse and trotted over to Josiah, Nathan and Ezra.

“Ezra, you’re with us. Josiah, Nathan, split the weight between the horses and ride over to Victorio. Lay low and we’ll meet you there.”

Chris didn’t wait for Ezra to challenge him; Josiah and Nathan would take the gold and the rest of them were going after the gang, that’s all there was to it. Fourteen dead at the stagecoach weigh station meant they had to get the gang as well as the gold.

“Chris?” Josiah called out and Chris stopped his horse mid-stride. “Why Victorio? There’s no law there.”

It was a good question and it deserved an answer, even if he was hot, tired and boiling over the slaughter he'd witnessed “They won’t expect you to go there.” He left the rest unsaid. The part about the rest of them getting killed by the outlaws if things didn’t turn out right. “If we’re not there in three days, bury the gold, change horses and head over to Fort Seldon .”

“Buck, JD?” Chris called out. “We leave in half an hour.” He didn’t bother checking their progress burying the bodies. He didn’t care if they left them to rot in the sun or to be torn apart by scavengers. The type of men could slaughter two entire families deserved to be eaten by coyotes… or worse.

He joined Vin and slid from his horse with a groan. The only thing keeping him going was the memory of the bodies. It wasn’t about the gold, but he’d be damned if those fuckers were going to ever get their hands on it again. Splitting them up and sending Josiah and Nathan off would guarantee they wouldn't get their hands on it.

“You sure splitting up is a good idea?” Vin asked softly as he handed over his canteen.

“Five of us, four of them,” Chris said after taking a small swallow. “You know if there’s any water in these parts?”

“There’s a spring down yonder a couple of miles, saw some cottonwoods through my spyglass before we caught up to 'em. Spring is opposite from their trail.” Vin crouched low, reading sign, Chris knew. He'd seen him do it often enough.

“We split up, they never get the gold.” Chris said after awhile.

“You all right?” Vin asked, not looking up from the track.

“No.”

“We’ll get ‘em, Chris. Hell, they’ll come looking for us, once they realize we got what they want.”

Chris stopped studying the distant desert and turned to face Vin. Vin looked up, watching him patiently, expression neutral, unquestioning. Hell, Vin looked as tired as he felt. As tired and worn out as they all were. They got lucky in the short battle and he knew it. They needed at least a couple of hours out of the saddle if they had any hope of winning this fight.

“We’ll get water,” Chris said. “Give the horses a rest.”

Vin nodded once and straightened from his crouch, trying to hide his pain from Chris. Vin’s back, always sore, had to be killing him. He’d wrenched it carrying fence posts a few days before and after three days of riding hard, he had to be downright miserable. He wouldn’t complain, though. He’d keep going until he dropped, just like Chris would. Like Buck and JD would too. The only one who would keep them all from killing themselves in the saddle would be Ezra. It was reason enough to split them up the way he did. Even if Ezra didn't like it.

"Wait here," Chris said softly. He collected all their canteens, filling the rest of them in on the plan. He picked out a big roan from the three outlaws' horses, handing Pony's reins over to Buck. He hung the nearly empty canteens over the saddle horn and let the horse pick his way over the rocky ground and back to where Vin waited for him.

"Give your mule a break," Chris said as he leaned down, arm extended. Vin gripped his forearm and swung himself up behind Chris, a low groan barely audible as he settled in behind the saddle.

They rode silently, the weight of what they'd seen weighing on Chris like nothing had in going on four years. They approached the spring cautiously, ready for an ambush even though the sign led in the opposite direction. Finally under the shade of the Cottonwoods, Vin swung down from behind Chris, almost losing his footing.

Chris dismounted, taking the canteens with him. He dropped to his knees on the rocky lip of the natural pool and took a handful of water, sniffing it to be sure it was clear of sulfur or rot. His hands shook as he lifted the cool, clear water to his face, sipping and splashing his face at the same time. Before long, Vin lay on his belly next to him, face nearly in the water.

Chris scrubbed at his face some more, as he felt more than saw Vin roll onto his back next to him. He didn't know what to say or even if there was anything he could say. He finally started filling canteens, anxious to get back on the trail, even though all he wanted was to lie there and sleep. What he wanted wasn't important.

"You ever seen anyone skinned before?" Vin asked softly.

"No," Chris answered after a time, just as soft. Here in the shadow of the cottonwoods, a soft breeze ruffling the leaves, dappled sunlight speckling the bank, he could almost forget what he'd seen at the weigh station. "You sure it wasn't Apaches?" he asked after more silence from Vin.

"Apache wouldn't have killed the kids. They woulda taken 'em," Vin answered, matter of fact.

"White men wouldn't have skinned them or cut off their ears," Chris growled.

"Didn't say it weren't Indians, Chris. Not Apache, though. Comancheros, probably run outta pickins down south. Some of the horses were shooed, so I'd guess it was outlaws and Comancheros."

Chris went silent again, sitting up crosslegged, elbows on his knees, and scrubbed at his face. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep and blowing dust. He couldn't get the images out of his head. Every time he shut his eyes, the skinned bodies greeted him, as if they were seared onto the inside of his eyelids. He'd seen men blown apart by cannons, brains blown out of heads, death in almost every form; he didn't think anything could affect him this badly anymore.

"They won't get away to do it again. We'll get 'em, Chris," Vin whispered, face inches from Chris'.

He opened his eyes to meet Vin's eyes, seeing truth and an anger to match his own. "Damned right we will."

Chris leaned forward, resting his forehead against Vin's, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I told JD, Buck and Ezra they had two hours to rest up. Canteens are filled. Want a soak?"

"I'm guessing it's a mite cold," Vin whispered, his breath ghosting against Chris' cheek. "A soak is all we'd be doin in water that cold."

"I'm too tired for anything else," Chris whispered. He didn't know why he whispered, but it felt right to keep their voices down in this natural oasis of trees.

"Chris Larabee too tired? Never thought I'd hear them words from you, cowboy. You're never too tired for anything," Vin said as he turned his head.

Chris met him halfway, their lips coming together. Chris kept the kiss easy and slow, kept his tongue in his own mouth. The taste and warmth of Vin's body was enough. He wasn't looking for sex; he didn't know what he was looking for.

Vin broke off the kiss and climbed to his feet and stuck out his arm, offering Chris a hand up. They stripped out of their clothes quick, slipping into the cold water together. Vin took a sharp breath, surprise turning his mouth into an 'O.'

"I think I just lost my balls," Vin gasped out.

"Feels good," Chris grunted. And it did, after a few minutes. The water loosened Chris' muscles, once he got used to the cold, and washed off the worst of the trail dust. There wasn't anything he could do for his three day growth of beard, but the soak helped get rid of the worst of the grittiness that covered him.

"You got a plan?" Vin asked, once they'd been soaking awhile.

"Chase 'em down and take 'em in. If that doesn't work, kill 'em." Chris shrugged. There wasn't much to his plan, but this wasn't a situation that required finess. Vin squirmed in the water next to Chris, trying to get comfortable. "Want a back rub?" Chris asked, raising his eyebrow in invitation.

"That'd be right nice," Vin said, gliding through the water and turning around, settling in between Chris' legs.

It was a definite sign of bone-deep ache when Vin didn't bother to stifle the gasps and hisses caused by Chris' fingers digging into his lower back. But Chris kept it up, knowing it was better for Vin in the long run if he got through the worst of the twinges now. Just as Chris hoped, several minutes of persistent rubbing, especially those circular motions with his thumbs, and Vin finally began to relax into Chris' touch. The soft noises from his mouth became sighs and soft moans that signaled he'd given Vin at least some relief.

Finally Vin turned, and Chris saw a flash of regret with the acceptance in Vin's eyes. Chris would keep that up for hours, if his hands didn't cramp up after a while, and Vin knew it. He took Chris' hands in his own, one at a time, and worked the kinks out. "Gotta keep your trigger hand from getting too stiff," Vin said with a grin.

Chris chuckled softly. "Ain't exactly fair that my hands are the only things capable of getting stiff right about now."

"Some might call that a damn tragedy," Vin replied with a grin, and then slid behind Chris to trade places with him.

"I appreciate the gesture, but my back is fine, pard."

Vin gave a soft snort. "Hell, I know you, Larabee. Your back is fine, but your ass is hurtin."

Chris laughed, even though his pride was a tad wounded. "I think I'll go a little easier on the city slickers from now on."

Vin pressed a kiss to the back of Chris' neck as he slid his hands over the mounds of Chris' ass. "Nah, people'd start wonderin what was wrong with you, if you start going soft on the greehorns."

Chris sighed as Vin used some of the same motions on his ass that Chris'd just used on Vin's back. It did wonders for the ache born from sitting in the saddle so damn long. It'd still be uncomfortable when he mounted up again, but it'd be bearable. Chris closed his eyes for a minute, letting himself soak up the comforting touch and the brief respite from the hunt. But they could only afford to rest for just a spell, so sooner than he wanted to, he reluctantly slid away.

"Best get ourselves back to it," he said, sweeping a hand along Vin's back as they climbed out of the water. He was tempted to just throw his clothes on right then, with the chill of coming out of the water, but he didn't relish the idea of sitting in the saddle wet under his britches. So he stood there a moment, not caring what was flapping in the wind, and let himself dry a bit.

Another snort from Vin had his head turning Vin's way. Seeing the wicked glint in his eyes and taking a quick full-body scan of Vin's still-naked body, Chris decided to cut him off at the pass. "You just remember, Tanner, you ain't one to be talking about the sorry effects of that cold water."

"I ain't said a word," Vin replied, amusement getting fainter in his voice. In fact, as he pulled his union suit up his legs, the amusement seemed to bleed out of Vin. Neither one of them could forget for more than a couple minutes what they'd seen already and what they were about to face. A quick wash and a minute to loosen up tired and abused muscles was the best they were gonna get until they'd gotten hold of these outlaws.

Chris tugged his own clothes on then, and when he had his fly fastened, he stopped to lay a warm hand on the nape of Vin's neck. "We'll get this done and over with, then you and me can take a little siesta out at the shack."

Vin looked up at him, gave a quick but decisive nod, then shoved his hat back on his head. Time to go.

**********

Chris glanced up from cleaning his gun, the sun blocked out most of the details, but JD and Buck led the string of horses back from the spring while Ezra napped under the trees. Funny Ezra hadn’t taken the opportunity to clean off some of the dust, like JD and Buck had, but since when did he know what got into Ezra’s mind.

“We’re ready to go,” Buck called out.

Chris snapped the barrel of his gun back into place and levered himself to his feet. He was more than ready. The two hour rest was his idea, but he’d been getting antsy waiting on JD and Buck for the past half hour. Their wet hair told the story of their break. JD roused Ezra while Chris took his horse’s reins from Buck.

“Where’s Vin?” Buck asked, his tone a little off to Chris’ mind.

“Checking the trail,” Chris said, keeping his own tone neutral.

“We gonna have a repeat of Chanu, here, Chris?” Buck asked, his voice tight and it took Chris a few seconds to recover enough to answer Buck’s veiled accusation.

Chris took Vin‘s horse‘s reins from Buck before he answered, letting his displeasure seep into his words. “It’s not the same situation, Buck, and you know it.”

Buck shrugged, arms out, palms up. “All I’m saying is that Vin’s got a little too much understanding, sometimes, when it comes to Indians. “

“Ain’t any understanding to be had here, Buck. Vin knows that as well as you and I.”

“Don’t be getting riled on me, Chris, I’m just asking a question,” Buck shrugged again as he rode off toward Ezra and JD.

Now where the hell had that come from? Buck wasn’t too fond of the Indian population, neither was Ezra. JD found them romantic, like he found a lot of things he hadn’t faced the harsh realities of up close and personal.

Ezra’s distaste came from ignorance and rumor, and maybe a touch of fear, but Buck’s came from experience. Buck had lived in the west his entire life, had been raised in Kansas during the worst of the Indian wars. Lost his own pa to ’em and grew up watching his widowed mother support herself the only way she could at an army outpost.

Shit, he didn’t need his own men going at each other right now. Vin didn’t know why Buck was sometimes more likely to shoot an Indian rather than parlay. It should be enough for Vin to have seen Buck in action at the Seminole village. But he’d also seen his face and heard his words when Claire Mosley had been killed. And even though it turned out her pa had killed her and not Chanu, Vin was well aware Buck and Ezra were ready to throw a neck stretching party. They’d gotten over their differences with a shrug and by putting it behind them, but it looked like Buck hadn’t forgotten that Vin wasn’t ready to blindly accept Chanu’s guilt, even when the facts pointed that way.

And this time, again, women, and children too, were the victims. Women, especially, were Buck’s weakness, and children Ezra’s. The fact was, Chris was ready to go in guns blazing, just as Buck and Ezra were.

Hell, Vin was too, the way he followed that trail. Chris spied him on foot, at least a mile away, crouched over again. He grabbed Peso’s reins a little tighter and nudged Pony into a trot. It didn’t take him long to catch up to Vin and Vin had already straightened up, waiting for him by the time he was a few hundred feet away.

“I don’t like the looks of things, Chris,” Vin said before Chris came to a stop.

“Which things?” Chris asked, looking from Vin to the distant hills.

“They ain’t trying to hide their trail, for one,” Vin said as he mounted up. “Headed for Old Mexico, near as I can tell. Looks like they got a place in mind, too.”

“So they’re not just running?” Chris asked.

Vin shook his head. “Might be trying to figure out a way to get that gold back.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” Chris said. He let Vin take the lead, glancing behind him to be sure of the others’ positions.

“The People don’t usually go after gold, Chris.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just thinking out loud, I suppose,” Vin said. “Makes me sure it’s outlaws and maybe a few renegades. Ain’t a tribe. Army needs to know that before they go out looking to avenge them families.”

“Nothing we say or do will stop the army, Vin. You know that by now.”

“Reckon I do at that,” Vin said as he kicked his horse into a trot.

Chris held back, let Vin take the lead following the trail. They’d hunted together often enough for him to know how to stick close without getting in Vin’s way, yet still be right with him when things came to a head.

Buck, Ezra and JD rode together twenty yards back or so, far enough apart they weren’t all one target, but close enough to Chris, Vin and each other to provide support. They’d been together over a year now and knew how each other handled things. Knew who was best on the high ground, whose horse was the fastest, whose gun was the fastest. Knew each others strengths and how to shore up their weaknesses. Chris had no doubt they’d catch the men they were after.

*****

Ten hours. Maybe the longest ten hours of Chris’ life. His ass hurt, his horse was worn out and he was afraid he’d be the first one to call for another break. He checked behind him again. JD was only twenty yards back, Buck another thirty back, and Ezra brought up the rear, almost out of sight.

Up ahead, Vin was on foot again. He’d been on and off his horse so many times over the past ten hours that Chris was sure one of these times, he wouldn’t be able to mount up. He visibly limped over the rocky ground, picking his way through the low plants, bending over now and then to get his hands on something that caught his attention.

Chris kicked Pony into a trot until he was close enough to Vin to speak without shouting.

“We getting close?”

Vin glanced up at him, his face unreadable, his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat. “No more than an hour or so behind, now.”

“I’ll tell the others. They still running?”

“Yep. Reckon we better keep an eye out for them to make a stand soon. Their horses are worn down. Won’t be able to keep going much longer.”

“How far are we from Mexico?”

“River’s over the next rise.” Vin mounted up, and Chris didn’t miss the sharp breath as he slung himself up and over his horse’s back. “I’m going to scout ahead.”

“Not too far,” Chris said as he turned away from Vin and joined Ezra, Buck and JD. They’d pulled up a short ways back and the three of them looked worn, but still determined. Finding fourteen people dead, three of them skinned and half of them kids kind of put a little more determination into a man than he might normally have.

“We close?” Buck asked as soon as Chris reined in.

“Close enough to have to worry about an ambush,” Chris said.

“Do you have a plan, Mr. Larabee?”

All three of them studied him expectantly, waiting on him to make the call. His plan was the same as before. Four outlaws, five peacekeepers. A frontal assault was the best move.

“Vin says Mexico’s just over the next rise. We’ll have to wait and see where we catch up to them.”

“Are we going to follow them into Mexico, Chris?” JD asked.

Chris nodded. The border was more a suggestion than a rule in these parts.

“Josiah and Nathan should be in Victorio by now,” Buck said. “Army’s going to be on the way as soon as they send that telegraph.”

“They’ll miss all the fun, then,” Chris said as he turned around to find out if Vin had learned anything new.

“Vin’s on his way back,” JD said, nodding into the distance.

It didn’t take Vin long to catch up to them, the speed he rode up to them at. Chris had no idea where Peso got his endurance, but the horse sure didn’t act like he’d just spent almost four days straight on the trail.

Vin didn’t waste any time letting them know what he’d found. “Just over the river there’s a ghost town. Less than twenty buildings, most fallin’ down. I reckon they’re holed up there.”

“You see anyone?” Chris asked.

Vin shook his head but didn’t say anything else.

“If you didn’t see anyone, why do you think they’re there?” Buck asked.

“Trail leads there. No where else to go out here.”

“I bet they think the army won’t follow them into Mexico,” JD said.

Chris knew better. The army treated the border like a suggestion, too, but he didn’t feel the need to educate JD today.

“You ready to put an end to this?” Chris asked, looking to each of his men.

Four nods met him and he nodded back. “Vin? You think you and Ezra can sneak in there and get up to the high ground?”

Vin thought for a minute before nodding. “We can leave the horses in the trees by the river. It’ll be dusk in an hour. We’ll go in then.”

Chris nodded; sounded about right to him. “We’ll go in on foot too.”

“I doubt they are unaware of our pursuit,” Ezra said.

“Still don’t need to let ‘em know we’re coming,” Vin called out softly as he rode off toward the river. He didn’t look back to make sure Ezra followed him. After a minute, and a glance at Chris, Ezra did follow.

*****

“Buck!” Chris ducked as another bullet whizzed by his head. Shit! What happened to Buck? Another bullet came from Buck’s position and Chris had to duck lower. Gunfire came from all directions; he couldn’t sort it anymore. Only one thing was clear, they were outnumbered and outgunned.

“Chris!”

Buck’s voice, from over beyond the third building, carried through the air. Last thing he knew, Buck was around the corner one building over and JD was just inside the building next to it.

“You all right?” Chris shouted over the melee as he tried to spot another target. He fired toward the old livery, satisfied when he heard a grunt of pain. But the bullets flying in his direction didn’t let up for even a moment. There had to be at least ten guns firing at him.

“Chris, can you make it over here?” Buck sounded desperate. Chris was caught out in the open and he knew it; he didn’t need Buck telling him so.

“Pinned down!” Chris yelled, just in case Buck hadn’t really figured it out on his own. “Where the hell are Vin and Ezra?”

“I haven’t heard their guns lately,” Buck shouted over the gunfire. “Me and JD are holed up tight in here.”

Chris’s ammunition was running out and he was pinned down by a superior force. He didn’t need to guess where this was headed. His only chance was to find a way to retreat, to make it to where Buck and JD had found better cover.

A voice Chris didn’t recognized shouted over his own, over the gunfire. The shots rang out, heavy as they’d been for what seemed like hours, until only sporadic firing and shouts of “Hold your fire” could be heard.

Chris didn’t chance raising his head; it would be blown off the second it cleared the trough.

“Are you looking for this?” that unknown voice rang out again.

Chris still didn’t dare look up; he’d have to rely on JD and Buck to get a fix on the situation.

“Shit,” from Buck, but still, Chris stayed behind the bullet ridden trough.

“Would you like them?”

Chris finally got a bead on where the voice was coming from and it didn’t bode well for the two missing-in-action peacekeepers. He glanced skyward, across the street to the building Vin and Ezra had climbed earlier; he could make out figures up there and he realized in an instant that from the high ground, his position was totally exposed.

When he finally focused on what he saw, he realized Vin and Ezra were in an even worse position.

“Drop your guns or they drop.”

Chris could finally put a face to the voice. Grizzled whiskers, sunburn, no hat. Tall as Nathan and wide as Josiah, he dwarfed both Vin and Ezra. Shit. Someone held Vin’s suspenders; Chris couldn’t see who. All he could see was Vin tipped forward over the edge of the three-story roof, only being kept from falling by that hold on his suspenders. Chris had the insane vision of the last time he’d stripped Vin out of those pants, his comments that Vin needed a new set of trousers met with a laugh. It wouldn’t be funny if those threadbare pants ripped, sending Vin to his death.

“Drop your guns or they drop!”

Ezra couldn’t stand on his own, he dangled over the edge, blood dripping from his head.

Chris knew if they dropped their guns, Vin and Ezra would be dropped over the side anyway. Men who could skin people alive would have no problem dropping his men to their deaths.

“My men have you surrounded. If you didn’t have what I want, you’d already be dead.”

So he was offering to bargain. Chris Larabee didn’t bargain with the likes of him. The man holding Ezra lost his grip and Ezra’s head tipped lower. Chris glanced over to Vin, but couldn’t get a read on his expression from so far away. He tried to read his body language, but he held himself loosely, probably ready to spring, but with his weight already over the edge and guns pointed at him, he didn’t have room to make any fancy moves.

Chris turned his sights on the outlaw leader. He could probably shoot him where he stood; Chris knew he was fast and accurate enough, but what would that get him, exactly? It would get him exactly nothing.

Silence from Buck and JD; he knew they waited for his move.

“Drop him,” the leader ordered and the one holding Ezra leaned further over the side of the roof.

“Wait!” Chris yelled, decision made. “I’ll come out. Get them away from the edge and down, then the others will come out. Maybe we can deal.”

A nod from the outlaw and Chris didn’t hesitate. As long as the seven had the gold, they had a bargaining chip. One Chris would use to bluff with. He’d rather die than let these men have their blood-soaked treasure.

Chris stepped out from behind the trough, gun pointed down and away. As soon as he was clear, he held his hands in the air . Didn’t take a minute for someone to dart forward and grab his gun. Two more men stepped forward, guns trained at Chris’ head.

Chris didn’t look at them; he kept his eyes trained on the leader. He waited, watching silently as they hauled Ezra and Vin back onto safer ground. He didn’t acknowledge the outlaws coming out of buildings all around, just silently waited for the leader to make his way down.

Long, tense minutes later and Chris stood face to face with the leader of the pack.

“Call your men out,” he ordered.

Chris smiled.

He raised his gun to Vin’s head, but the man didn’t repeat himself, just locked eyes with Chris and pulled back the hammer.

“Buck, JD.”

Chris kept his eyes forward, locked with the man in charge. He heard Buck and JD join the rest of them; looked like they were headed toward a stand-off of a different kind now.

“Where’s my gold?”

“Nowhere you’ll ever find it.”

Chris could outstare anyone and after a few tense minutes of locked eyes, he realized this man probably could too.

“Pick one and kill him,” he ordered the man standing next to him, still not losing eye contact with Chris.

“You kill one of us and none of the others will ever talk.”

The leader’s hand went in the air, signaling his man to wait while he looked for the truth in Chris’ expression. He must have found what he was looking for.

“Caleb, Robert, Jacob; take them to the jail,” he ordered, turning away and dismissing Chris. He broke contact first, but from a position of strength, not weakness.

The man behind him shoved a gun into Chris’ back, almost knocking him off his feet. He followed Buck and JD, who were being led by two men in buckskins. He didn’t bother looking to see who prodded him. He would only deal with the leader; those were the rules of this game.

He took the time during the march to the jail to asses the situation and come up with a solution. He knew they were outnumbered, there were at least fifteen outlaws, which would be manageable if they hadn’t already been captured. Ezra was out cold. Or close enough, but no one else looked hurt. They had something these men wanted; it was their only resource. It didn’t look good. Caring more about not losing than not dying kept Chris alive more times than he liked to count; it would have to do so again. The idea of these men getting away with what they’d done, with or without the gold, lit a fire in Chris’ belly so strong, it just might eat him alive. It’d keep them alive, he hoped. For now, he’d have to wait and see where things were headed.

*****

Chris had one question in his head, and it wasn’t a productive one. Just where the hell had all of these men come from? When they faced off in the desert, there were only seven of them. They’d killed three, leaving four to hunt down. Vin was positive, as anyone with eyes would be looking at that trail, there were only four horses. The two leading Buck and JD looked to be small enough to ride double, even on that grueling ride. The couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds each. In fact, getting a better look at them, he was sure they weren’t more than kids themselves.

He still hadn’t looked behind him. He could hear Vin and Ezra, it was hard to miss Vin’s grunts as he struggled to move Ezra along. It shouldn’t matter where the rest of them came from, they were here now. But it sure did rankle that he’d been caught so unaware.

It didn’t take long to reach the jail and as Chris stumbled into the dark building, he ran right into Buck. Buck tensed, ready to fight and Chris rested his hand on the small of his back. “Keep alert,” Chris whispered.

A nod from Buck was his answer, but before he could say anything else, a lamp was lit and the larger of the two kids waved his gun in their direction.

“You two,” he said to JD and Buck. “In here.”

Chris studied him for a minute. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him before. Buckskin pants, fringed buckskin jacket, very similar to Vin’s. Long, tied off black hair. Very tan skin, dark eyes. No doubt Indian, most likely a half-breed because he didn’t have the broad features or eyes of a full blood Indian. The one with him looked similar and Chris would bet the one behind him was the same.

“I should kill you right now,” the kid said.

Chris didn’t bother responding.

“You killed Billy,” he said, getting closer and raising his gun to Chris’ head.

Chris couldn‘t help himself, he didn‘t want to let that go. Hell, rile the kid enough and maybe he and Vin could get their guns away from the three kids, unlock Buck and JD and get the hell out of there. He held eye contact with the teenager and sneered at him. “People get killed in gunfights, kid.”

Pure rage hardened the kid’s face and Chris tensed to try to get out of the way of a bullet that would have his name on it.

“Caleb! Pa don’t want ‘em dead yet,” the boy behind him said, high voice giving away his age as even younger than the two in front of Chris. “Pa will kill you if you kill him. He‘s already mad as a rattler these fellers got the gold.”

The kid hesitated, but finally dropped his gun. The other boy opened the cell door and Chris went in. Vin followed, dragging Ezra, and the boys shut the cell door with a bang.

Chris studied the three captors as they lit more lanterns around the room. He was aware of Vin dropping Ezra onto the bunk and then casing out the rest of the cell. Chris could keep his focus on the Comancheros knowing Vin would take care of the other details.

Chris finally got a look at the third boy and after a good long look, that fire in his belly stoked back to a furnace. Kid couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen; he was just a little shit. But what nearly sent Chris against the bars in a rage was the dried ears and scalps hanging from the kid’s oversized gunbelt. He looked away to get a little control. It sure wouldn’t do any good to try to get the kid through the bars.

It only took a moment, and a glance at Vin, to gain control of himself. It was full on dark now, the last of the twilight finally gone. Inside the stone jailhouse, lights flickered and it was eerily silent. The third boy, the smallest one, looked like a mangy, skinny little dog. His hair hung around his face, dirty and stringy. His face was bruised in different places, the worst, a starburst of a black eye, hued in purples and greens. Each bruise decorating his face was in a different phase of healing.

“What happened out there?” one of the other boys asked and the kid stopped studying Chris.

“They caught up to us and killed Juan, Skeet and Octavio. Got the gold too. There was seven of ‘em.”

“How many taivo you kill?”

“I don’t know how many pa and the others got, but I got two. Got me some more ears, too.” A wide smile split the kid’s face as he settled down behind an old scarred desk. Chris felt Vin move up next to him, but he kept his eyes on their captors.

“What’s taivo?” Chris asked softly, barely moving his mouth.

“White,” Vin whispered back.

“Caleb?” the kid asked and Chris listened in, even though the boys acted as if he and his men weren’t there. “Billy really dead?”

“That taivo,” the one called Caleb spit out the word and pointed his gun at Chris, “shot ‘em down. We was in the barn next to the old store and he shot ‘em right in the head.”

“We’ll ask pa to save him for us,” the younger one said, eyes on Chris again.

Chris turned his back on them, glancing over to Buck and JD, before meeting Vin’s eyes. “How’s Ezra?” Chris asked, glancing over at the bunk after confirming Vin was in one piece.

“He took a hit to the head. Gonna have to wait and see.”

Chris nodded. Wasn’t much they could do for him besides wait for his brains to unscramble themselves.

Buck moved closer to the bars separating their cells and gave Chris a questioning look. JD stood silently at his side and Chris took a moment to make eye contact with each of them. Vin moved over to the front of their cell, keeping an eye on their captors while Chris moved closer to Buck and JD.

“How’re we gonna play this?” Buck asked.

“We have what they want. Once they find out what they want to know, they kill us. So,” Chris shrugged.

“They never find out,” Buck said, determination clear.

“It’s going to get ugly,” Chris said, casually, looking at JD, then back to Buck.

“Killing one of us won’t do ‘em any good,” Buck said, staring into Chris’ eyes.

Chris nodded. Killing one of them would only make the rest more determined not to give them what they wanted. The trick was, getting the man in charge to realize it as well.

Buck nodded at their jailers. “What do you make of them?”

“Not much.”

“Mangy little whelps, ain’t they?”

“Still deadly.”

“You got a plan yet, Chris?” JD asked. He’d been unusually quiet since they’d been captured. Chris made sure to make eye contact with him before shaking his head.

“Not yet, JD,” Chris said. “I will, just hold tight and be ready,” he said, even if he wasn’t sure he believed it.

*****

“You need to let go.”

It was the first thing Vin said to him in the fifteen minutes since they sat down on the floor of their cell.

Sometimes, it wasn’t fair that Vin could read him better than Vin could read a book.

“I didn’t know they were here neither. Most of ‘em were inside, their horses are out grazing and a dust storm blew through here earlier.”

“Still should have sensed something, Vin. It just doesn’t sit right.”

“We’re a hundred miles from home, and in another country to boot. We ain’t gonna know every hideout there is.”

Chris turned his head so he could see Vin, lounging against the bars. He pushed his hat back on his head so he could make eye contact and met Vin‘s calm, steady gaze. Chris gave a little half grin and took off his hat, flinging it over into the corner. “I’ll let it go when you do.”

He got an answering smile out of Vin with that one. Vin wasn’t the only one could do a little mind reading.

A low moan from the cot a few feet away had Vin on his feet and handing Ezra a canteen.

“Chris?”

He turned the other way so he could see Buck, leaning against the bars inches from him.

“What do you think they’re waiting on?”

“Either they’re trying to rile us or they’re tired. They can’t ride out until the morning anyway.”

“Good point,” Buck said as he gestured across the cell to where JD lay stretched out on the cot. “I don’t think I can stand watching anything happen to him. Hell, to any of y’all.”

“You know as well as I do we can’t show ‘em anything, Buck.”

“I know, I know,” Buck said, starting to wave his hands around. Getting worked up, Chris knew. “We seen what they’re capable of. Kind of reminds me of home before the war.”

“We’ll get out of this, Buck.”

“Only reason I believe you is because we been in a heap of a mess more times than I can count on all my fingers and toes.”

“And we’re still here, ain’t we, Buck?”

“Damn straight, stud.”

“We can’t let them use us against each other,” Chris said, even though he knew Buck already knew that. If any of them would get worked up enough to react to whatever the outlaws had planned, it would be Buck. Man was downright unable to control himself, sometimes.

“Ezra all right?” Buck asked, looking over Chris’ shoulder and Chris shifted around again. Damn near jumped out of his skin when he turned right into Vin.

Vin gave him that little crooked half smile and a wink. Man always found something funny. Instead of making Chris want to strangle him, he winked back.

“He knows his name, that we’re chasing outlaws and he made me check his boot for his stash. I reckon he’s jist fine even if his head is hurting a mite.”

“If this is ‘a mite’ I’d like to know your definition of agony, Mr. Tanner,” Ezra mumbled into the ratty, ripped, straw filled mattress. Ezra moaned pitifully and rolled over, opening one eye to give them a baleful stare. “Did you have to place me face-down on this odiferous pile of rotted rags?”

Vin glanced at Chris, smiling again before he turned back to Ezra. “You’re welcome, Ezra.“ Vin settled back in against the bars and tipped his hat down over his eyes. “JD’s got the right idea. Not a one of us has slept in too long. Wake me in an hour and you two can get some shut-eye.”

“Guess we got first watch,” Buck muttered, shaking his head at Vin.

*****

“What language are they talking?” Buck whispered just loud enough for Chris to hear him.

“Vin knew it, so I’d guess Comanche or Kiowa,” Chris said, keeping his voice low, but not whispering. He turned his sights back on the kids, who’d been horsing around, playing while Chris, Buck and Ezra kept an eye on them. If there was any food in his stomach, Chris might have lost it, watching body parts swing from the youngest’s belt while he wrestled with his brothers.

“How many Indian languages Vin know, pard?” Buck asked casually. He turned to Chris and raised an eyebrow. “He could talk to Kojay’s people, he knew enough to talk with the Seminoles… hell, them three could be Apache. Just because Vin knows their language doesn’t mean they’re Comanche.”

“You wanna tell me why that matters?” Chris asked, still keeping his eye on the kids.

“It don’t. I’m just talking.”

“Well don’t,” Chris said, a little sharper than he’d intended. Vin tended to go silent when he was worried or puzzling something through. Buck, Ezra and JD talked. The three of them probably got just as annoyed with he and Vin’s silence as he and Vin did with their non-stop chatter.

Chris nudged Buck through the bars and pointed at the shadow flickering outside the door just as it nearly swung off its hinges and into the room with a bang. The big man, the leader of the group, moved quick, stepping into the room and grabbing the smallest of the kids by the nape of the neck, lifting him off the ground and shaking him hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

At least four others entered the small building, but Chris kept his eyes trained on the leader. Chris tensed, but didn’t stand, not ready to jump to his feet because the man entered the room.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to talk that language!” he yelled at the boy before he set him on his feet and backhanded him across the face. “I would have put a bullet in that fucking cunt’s brain sooner if I knew she was teaching you that.”

The kid scrambled to his feet and out of reach, putting his back to a wall, but not trying to hide or escape. His face glowed red where he’d been backhanded, but he didn’t cry or make a sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris caught the other two boys scattering out of reach of what Chris realized was their pa. Made things a little more interesting.

He took his time getting to his feet, knowing Buck would be on his feet backing him as soon as he stood. He knew Vin was awake too and Ezra’s eyes were open. Chris moved to the front of his cell, eyes on the man.

“I want my gold.”

Chris gave a little smirk and titled his head to the side, studying his opponent. “Really? You don‘t say?”

The staring contest started again.

“What’s your name?” the guy finally said.

“What’s yours?”

“Caleb Shore,” he said with a twisted smile.

Chris recognized the name, recognized what went with it. The man was wanted by at least two states and two territories. Chris hadn’t heard the Shore gang was even in the New Mexico Territory. Last he’d heard, Shore was still terrorizing border towns in Arizona.

He took his time answering, finally saying, “Larabee. Chris Larabee.” Shore wasn’t the only one with a well-known name.

Shore gave Chris the once over, reassessing, him, Chris knew. “Jacob,” Shore called out and one of the kids darted forward, front and center in a heartbeat. “Unlock this door.”

Chris kept his eyes on Shore as the door swung open, not making a move forward. He felt Vin at his back and thought about the odds of the two of them, and maybe Ezra, taking on five armed men and three armed boys. He reached back and tapped Vin’s thigh, telling him no, not yet.

“Come out of there, Larabee. You,” he pointed back at Vin, “stay.”

Chris stepped forward, not hesitating to come out of the cell and face the man.

“You a lawman now, or working for money?” Shore asked him.

“Law.”

“You as fast as they say?”

“How fast do they say?”

Shore went silent again, studying Chris. The man had a reputation for brutality and smarts, two things that didn’t always go together. Fact was, most of the outlaws hereabouts just weren’t all that bright, Chris knew from experience.

“You are going to die here. The question is, how long is it going to take.”

“I like a man that gets right to the point, Shore. Here’s me paying you the same courtesy.” Chris couldn’t help sneering, he didn’t even make an attempt to keep the contempt he felt from showing. “We won’t tell you shit. Not a one of us is afraid to die and if you kill one of my men, none of the others will give you what you want. Seems we got a little Mexican stand-off here.”

“I don’t think so, Larabee. You got a reputation, but looking at what you’re riding with,” Shore gestured around the cells. “A fancy-man, a breed, a kid and maybe one other gunslinger, well, you’d understand if I ain’t exactly quaking in my boots. Your fancy-man faints when he bleeds, your boy is napping like a baby and I got enough experience with breeds to know you can’t trust ‘em. So, if maybe I kill you and your friend there, they‘ll tell me where my gold is.”

“Buck?” Chris called out.

“Yeah.”

“You heard of Shore?”

“Sure have. I heard he’s a murdering, raping, thieving, no-account deserter.”

Chris crossed his arms and widened his stance before he said loudly, “Well, I heard he’s not stupid. Guess I heard wrong and you heard right.”

“Cates, James, bring him over here.”

Chris shook off the hands that reached for him and walked over to where Shore had gestured.

“You boys think a gunslinger needs his gun arm?” Shore asked his own men. He nodded to the two who had stepped up behind Chris and they grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to the old desk in the middle of the room.

Chris thought about struggling, decided it wouldn’t help him out of the fix he was in.

“Break his gun arm,” Shore said casually, then turned and started toward the door. “After you do that,” he called out over his shoulder, “get some grub, take a siesta and be back here three hours before dawn. That should be time enough to find out where our gold is. ” Shore sought out his boys, standing in the far corner, and pointed at them. “You leave this jail or fall asleep, I’ll beat you within an inch of your worthless lives.”

He left the room without a backward look.

Chris struggled with the men who held him by the arms and soon the other two men joined the skirmish. It didn’t take long for them to pin him, face-down across the top of the desk with his forearm hanging off the end.

Before he could put up a fight, before he was even sure what was happening, he heard a snap. The pain hit him the same time as the sound of his arm snapping and Chris bit his lip to keep from howling. He tasted blood and bit down harder, squeezing his eyes tight and trying to curl up. The pain hammered him, didn’t let up as he was dragged back to the cell and tossed inside.

“Easy… easy, cowboy,” he heard over the rushing of blood in his ears. “Let go of yer lip before you bite it off.”

Hands he recognized rubbed circles on his back, but it did nothing to distract his mind from his snapped arm.

“Breathe, cowboy, come on, breathe,” Vin said in his ear.

It took him awhile but he could finally draw a breath, then another. Soon, he began to inhale and exhale along with Vin and as his breathing evened out, the agony became almost bearable.

“You gonna let me look yet?” Vin asked him.

“Fuck,” Chris was able to breathe out after another few minutes. He looked up to where Vin crouched over him and met his eyes.

“Bout sums it up, Chris,” Vin said with a sigh.

*****

With each beat of his heart, the pain in his snapped arm throbbed, sending ripples up through his shoulder and outward. He’d tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t working, instead he rolled with each wave, getting used to the pattern until it became part of him.

“Drink this,” Vin said as he handed him a canteen. “You have to smart off to him?” Vin asked, smiling like he knew the answer to his own question.

“Been riding with you too long, I guess,” Chris answered softly.

“He’s a cold son of a bitch, ain’t he?” Vin asked.

Chris nodded. “You know anything about him?”

Vin took his time thinking before he nodded. “He’s from Texas. Fought the Comanche and Kiowa back in the fifties. Army. I don’t know much more than that.”

“When I was a lawman,” Buck said from where he crouched next to the bars in the next cell over, “I crossed paths with some of his gang. All ex-army, mostly deserters and they didn’t care who they killed to get what they wanted. I never known him to ride with Indians, though. He killed them as often as he killed white folks.”

“How does someone like that get away with what he’s done?” JD asked.

“West is a big place, kid,” Vin answered with a shrug. “During the war, the army was too busy fighting back east to put a stop to it, now he’s been at it too long to get caught easy.”

“I did not faint,” Ezra said from across the cell.

“What?” JD asked.

“I did not faint,” Ezra repeated.

“We know, Ez,” Buck said. “And the kid wasn’t napping and Vin isn’t a breed. He was playing games, is all.”

“We might want to think about bluffing our way out of this situation,” Ezra said as he joined the rest of them, keeping his voice low and his head turned away from the kids across the room. “Perhaps we could send them on a wild goose chase to gain some time.”

Chris turned and watched the kids playing some sort of game. He didn’t think they’d be able to bluff their way out, but it was something to think about. The throbbing in his arm got worse when he didn’t have anything to concentrate on, so he watched the kids roll some sort of dice on the desk.

“Anyone know how to set a bone?” Vin asked.

Chris snapped his head around and met Vin’s eyes. “No,” Chris said.

“Wasn’t talking to you, cowboy,” Vin answered, giving Chris a little smack on the leg. “Far as I know, you need two hands to set a bone. Ezra? Buck?”

“Surely you’re jesting?” Ezra said, raising an eyebrow.

“I can sew a pretty stitch, just ask Chris,” Buck said, shaking his head, “but I can’t set bones.”

“Guess we should have brought Nathan with us,” Chris mumbled.

Vin tapped Chris’ leg again to get his attention, then nodded at the kids. Chris nodded back but didn’t pay attention when Vin got up to talk with them. He turned his attention to the others instead. “We’re going to get out of this,” Chris said, making eye contact with each of them in turn.

Buck nodded back, no doubt visible.

Ezra and JD both hesitated, but each finally nodded. Good. If they gave up, they wouldn’t be ready to take advantage of any situation that might come their way.

“What’s Vin up to?” Buck asked.

“Seeing if he can get anywhere with them.”

“He’d be better off trying to charm a snake,” Buck huffed out. Buck went silent again and Chris turned his head to study Buck’s expression. Worried, anxious and angry, about what Chris expected to see.

“Chris, you know there’s families living in Victorio, right?”

“Yep.” He didn’t need Buck letting him know he made another mistake, sending Josiah and Nathan to a town that couldn’t protect itself. It’d been one of the things he’d been thinking about.

“If we tell ‘em anything, they’ll go there. Josiah and Nathan won’t stand a chance and we already seen what these fellers do to people who can’t protect themselves.”

“Then we best not tell them anything, right, Buck?”

“It ain’t that simple, Chris. They start carving one of us up like a Thanksgiving turkey, you think he’s gonna keep his mouth shut?”

“Who’re you thinking about?”

“Any one of us.”

Buck turned to watch Vin, who stood leaning against the bars, talking to their jailers. Chris shifted to get more comfortable and joined Buck in the watching. He didn’t think Vin would get anywhere with them, but it was worth a shot.

Vin spoke to them in a language none of the others understood, rapid fire words so unfamiliar to Chris, they didn’t even sound like words.

“Bobby,” one of the older of the two boys said without looking up from his game, “pa catches you talking that way, he’s gonna beat you again.”

The boy looked from his brother to Vin, then back again. He shook his head at Vin and went back to the game.

“I’ll trade you,” Vin said, in English, to the kid’s back.

Chris perked up a little; what the hell was Vin up to?

“Whata’ya got? You ain’t got nothing but a canteen and anything you got that I want, all I gotta do is take it from you.”

Yeah, Vin, what do you have? His curiosity getting the better of him, Chris rose to his feet and joined Vin at the front of the cell.

Vin opened his shirt and pulled out his medicine bag. It wasn’t the one Chanu gave him; it was one Vin made for himself a few months back. He hunted the deer and cured the leather, gathered the herbs, put a lock of Chris’ hair and a few other things into it, things he didn’t let Chris see.

Vin ripped it off his neck and held it out so the kid could see it. “Taking this won’t do you no good. It’ll bring you bad magic, but if I give it to you as a gift, that’s different.”

The kid came closer to the bars and Chris thought about reaching out and grabbing him, but he didn’t think about it long. It was a stupid idea.

“Protection?” the boy asked and Vin nodded to him.

“All right. You want two of them slats?”

Vin nodded back and the kid broke two slats off the chair he’d been sitting in and handed ‘em over to Vin. “I ain’t getting close enough for you to stab me with them, so you better put ‘em on your friend’s arm before I shoot you,” the kid said, jumping back as soon as he handed the small pieces of wood to Vin. “Ain’t gonna do no good to fix his wing anyways,” the kid said with a shrug.

“Let’s get away from here,” Vin said, nodding toward the back of the cell. “Little feller’s pissed at you for killing his brother.”

“The one in the livery?” Chris asked.

“Yep,” Vin said as he took Chris’ broken arm in his hands.

“Thought you said you don’t know how to set a bone.”

“When’d I say that?” Vin asked with a smirk.

Chris bit back a shout as Vin felt the bones of his arm, letting out a long hiss instead.

“Easy, Chris. I ain’t gonna try and set it. Afraid I’ll set it wrong.”

“What’re you doing then?”

“Fixin it so it ain’t flapping. I’m gonna be sick if I have at look at it flapping around like that.”

“Thanks,” Chris ground out through clenched teeth.

Vin pulled off his suspenders and used the leather to strap the pieces of wood to Chris’ forearm, both of them gone silent while he was working.

“Think you can get anywhere with them?” Chris asked once the pain faded a little and he could talk again.

Vin studied the kids and shrugged. “Don’t rightly know.” He went silent again for a long minute before he turned his eyes to meet Chris’. “You know what they’re playing with?”

Chris shook his head.

“Bones. The game they’re playing, you take some fox or coyote knuckles, carve symbols in ‘em and it’s like dice. Only they’re playing with human bones, not animal.”

They both went back to watching the kids again and kept their own council.

“Hurting?” Vin asked after a few more minutes of silence.

“Only when my heart beats.”

“Why don’t you try and get some shut-eye? It’s gonna be a long night.”

“That’s a good idea, Chris,” Buck added. “I might do that myself.”

Vin nodded and stood. “I’m gonna see if I can work on the little one some more.”

“Be careful, Vin,” Chris said as Vin walked away.

*****

“Ain’t gonna work.”

Chris didn’t turn to look at Buck. He’d managed to almost fall asleep before Buck started talking in his ear.

“Shore’s their pa. He ain’t gonna turn them against him,” Buck said.

“Can’t sleep?” Chris asked.

“Nah. You have any idea what Vin’s saying to them?”

Chris shook his head. He had no idea. He trusted Vin to play it smart though. But he sure didn’t trust those kids.

“A few hours won’t be enough to turn them,” Buck said.

Chris did turn to face Buck, then. He studied him for a minute, searching for signs Buck might be losing confidence. Would only be natural. As the minutes ticked off, morning came closer and closer.

“You have another idea?” Chris asked.

“Nope.”

“I have an idea,” JD said.

“Please share your brilliance,” Ezra added. He’d been unusually quiet, keeping his hands busy flipping a stone between them, but otherwise sitting silent and still.

“Well, I already got Shore to misunderestimate me.”

Ezra snorted and Chris couldn’t help smiling.

“What’s so funny? I’m serious!”

“We know, kid. Tell us your idea,” Buck said, encouraging JD with a nod.

“Whoever he picks to… you know… get information out of first. We act like we won’t tell him, but then we do. But we send him in the wrong direction!”

Chris stared at his swollen arm and thought about how to let JD down easy. He wished it would be as simple as JD seemed to think. He looked up and was met with JD‘s hopeful expression. “He’s too smart to fall for that JD, but we might have to try it.”

“He might fall for it if I did it. I could act really scared and like I don’t want to tell him, but then I do.”

Chris glanced at Buck, knowing they’d be thinking along the same lines. It might not be an act, come morning. Not many men could withstand what was done to the people at the weigh station and not give up information.

“We might be better off trying to take them before it comes to that,” Chris said softly.

“Perhaps Mr Tanner will make friends with the little cretins,” Ezra said as he gestured in Vin’s direction, at the front of the cell.

The youngest of the boys sat on the floor in front of Vin, while Vin talked to him in Comanche. The boy stared intently at Vin, listening close to whatever he was telling him. Chris wished he could move closer, but he didn’t want to intrude. If he was going to talk to any of them, it would be Vin, and without an audience.

“I don’t know how he can sit there and talk to him,” Buck said, his tone bitter.

“You got a better idea?” Chris asked.

“Hey Bobby,” one of the older boys yelled and the youngest jumped up and went to him. “Go find us some food. You get any tins when you went out?”

“Yeah, pa left ‘em in the storage shed with the other stuff. You want me to go get some?”

“You gotta be hungry. You ain’t ate since you got back.”

“I could eat,” the kid said. He turned back to Vin, hesitating, before he snuck out a window and off into the night.

“Leave him alone,” the oldest of the boys said to Vin as soon as the youngest was out of sight.

“I’m jist talking to him,” Vin said with a shrug.

“Talk to him in taivo talk then. Pa don’t like if we act Indian.”

“Yer pa don’t much like anything, seems like,” Vin tossed over his shoulder as he turned his back on the boys and took a seat next to Chris.

“He sure don’t like you,” the kid said, smiling big. “He’s gonna do you first, I bet.”

“Learn anything useful?” Chris asked softly.

“Learned a lot. Not much use, though,” Vin answered just as soft.

“That boy is crazy, Vin,” Buck said, keeping his voice down too. “He’s plumb loco,” Buck muttered.

Vin shook his head. “No he ain’t. He’s hate-filled and he’s got no regard for life, including his own, but he ain’t crazy.”

“You going to be able to turn him against his pa?” Chris asked.

Vin shook his head, lips pursed tight into a thin line.

“You get any sleep?” Vin asked after a time.

“Nope.”

“Arm hurting?”

“A mite,” Chris said, giving Vin a little grin.

“Is that ‘a mite’ in Tanner, or in English?” Ezra asked.

“I can’t take this sitting around much longer,” Buck growled out as he stood and began pacing.

“He’s not the only one,” Chris said to Vin.

“I’m feeling it too,” Vin said softly. He nudged Chris’ foot with his foot and pointed to the window. “Kid’s back.”

Chris nodded, trying to let Vin know he was behind his plan, that he thought it was their best chance.

*****

Watching the kids open the tins and eat their food turned Chris’ stomach. He wanted a better read on them, if that’s where their best hope lay, so he didn’t turn away. They ate like a pack of wild dogs, using knives to pry open the cans and tearing into the food.

He needed sleep, but he knew better than to even try. Hell, if he was going to die in a few hours, why spend those last few hours sleeping.

“Hey, Vin,” the smallest boy called out, holding up a tin. “What’s this one?” He tossed it through the bars and it rolled to a stop in front of Chris’ feet.

“It ain’t got a picture on it,” the kid said as he moved closer to the bars. Juice dripped from his chin and he used the back of his sleeve to wipe his face.

Vin picked up the can and glanced at it, then handed it over to Chris.

“What’s it say,” the kid asked Chris.

Wouldn’t hurt to read it to him. Chris studied the can, but didn’t need to read the words, he‘d seen the label often enough. Wouldn’t do any good if he’d needed to anyway, he couldn’t focus on anything other than a blood smear across the wrapper. He tossed it to Vin. “Beans and pork.”

Vin handed it to the kid through the bars and the boy wasted no time tearing it open and eating it cold. He raced through it, glancing at his brothers between bites. When he finished, he tossed the can across the room and sat down in front of the cell.

He cocked his head to the side and studied Vin. “Pa says breeds are too stupid to learn how to read. That why you can’t read?”

Vin shrugged and said something Chris didn’t understand.

“Bobby, you’re such an idjit! Can’t you see his friends don’t even know he’s one of us? Stupid Prairie-Dog.”

“Don’t call me that, that’s a baby name!”

“And you’re a baby,” the older boy said as he climbed to his feet and stretched out the kinks. “What kind of horses they got?”

“Nice ones. Think pa will let you keep one?”

“I hope so,” the older boy said. “I’m getting too big for the mustang I’m riding.”

“There’s a big gray you might like. I’ll find ‘em for you when it gets light.”

Buck bristled next to Chris and whispered, “Little shits aren’t getting their dirty hands on my horse, Chris.”

Chris shook his head, nope, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Next time Vin gets ‘em close enough to talk, I say we grab ‘em.”

“Then what?”

“Then we get out of here.”

Chris didn’t point out the many flaws inherent in Buck’s idea. It was frustration talking, plain and simple.

“Why do they keep calling Vin a breed?”

Chris shrugged; he had an idea, but he could be wrong. “He’s trying to get them to trust him.”

“Well, we don’t know what he’s saying to them, do we?” Buck went silent again when Chris didn’t answer him. “Chris… I’m not saying I don’t trust him, I trust him with my life-- you know that, all I’m saying is we don’t know how he’s playing this. I hate sitting here waiting.”

Chris almost asked, ‘Really?’ but he’d never felt a need to spew every thought in his head out his mouth. Buck did that enough for the both of them. He couldn’t help the little half-smile he knew twisted his features. Thinking back over his years of knowing Buck made him smile, whether he wanted to or not. It was too soon to start reviewing his life. There was time enough for that if it came right down to it come morning.

“Hey, Vin,” Bobby said as he took a seat in front of the bars again. “What’s your other name? Caleb‘s name is Hai-nick-seu, and Jacob‘s is Tosa Pokoo.”

Vin answered in Comanche and Chris raised an eyebrow in question.

“Walks-on-Water,” Vin translated.

Ezra burst into laughter so loud, Chris thought he’d bust a gut.

“Oh, Vin, that is sublime,” Ezra finally managed to say through near tears from laughing so hard. “Oh, my head,” Ezra groaned.

“Why’s he laughing at you?” the kid asked, glaring at Ezra through the bars. “Ain’t right to laugh at a warrior’s name.”

“It’s not a warrior’s name, kid. My brother gave it to me when I was about your age. He was funnin with me.”

“Will you tell me your name story?” the boy asked hopefully. He gestured at his brothers. “They won’t give me my warrior name.”

Vin nodded and the kid moved closer to the bars, settling in to get comfortable.

Vin did the same, and once he’d taken off his coat and put it behind his head to use as a pillow, he talked to the boy in Comanche. It didn’t take long for the other two to move closer so they could hear too.

Chris let the unfamiliar words wash over him while he thought about what Vin had said… A brother… Vin, at some point, had a brother. Chris didn’t question why Vin never told him that, there’d be time enough later. If there wasn’t a later, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Didn’t know Vin had any kin. You know that?” Buck asked.

Chris shook his head. He wanted to get up and move around so he didn’t stiffen up, but the pain radiating out from his arm had finally quieted a little and he didn’t want to risk reawakening it. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened as Vin’s soft voice told a story in a language he didn’t understand. There was a lot going on here he didn’t understand, but he trusted Vin.

At least half an hour passed while Vin told stories and Chris didn’t fight the need to close his eyes. At some point, when Chris opened his eyes, Ezra had joined them on the floor and JD moved closer too, until the three of them had Chris surrounded. He nodded to them and closed his eyes again.

“So, Mr. Tanner, are you going to share the story of your divine name with us too?”

Chris startled and opened his eyes to find Vin settled in with them.

Vin flashed a wide, but brief smile. He gave a little snort, laughing at himself, Chris knew.

“The story has fishing, a river, a bear and me so scared I nearly pissed myself. Never was able to get rid of that name. I’ll let you figure out the rest, Ezra.”

“What’s all this about names?” JD asked.

It wasn’t the time to indulge JD’s insatiable curiosity, but hell, they didn’t have anything else to do. Chris nodded to Vin, asking him to fill them in.

“Older two got their adult names from their ma before Shore killed her. The younger of them two is ‘Crow’ and the older one is ‘White-Horse.’ That’s why he’s got his eye on your horse, Buck. He thinks it’s a sign.”

“I’ll give him a sign,” Buck muttered.

“If Josiah were here, he’d be talking about crows,” Ezra said.

“So why’s the little one want you to give him a name?” JD asked, ignoring Ezra.

“Warriors have more than one name, JD,” Vin said as he turned to look at the boys. “They got a name they use as kids, then when they reach a certain age, someone gives ‘em an adult name. You can’t name yourself. The kid wants his brothers to name him and they won’t until he kills someone bigger than him. Women don’t count.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” Ezra muttered.

*****

He fell asleep again, Chris realized as he woke with a start. He quickly searched for what disturbed him.

“Vin,” JD called, obviously not for the first time.

“Yeah?” Vin asked, not turning away from where he watched the kids watching them.

“Why’s he staring at me?”

Vin shrugged. “He wants his name.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Yer bigger than him, kid,“ Vin said as he gave another shrug. “Near as I can tell, he’s trying to decide between you and Ez.”

“I’d like to see him try me,” Buck said, face darkening with rage. “I’d rip his head off his shoulders,” Buck said loud enough for the kids to hear.

“So he gets his name if he kills one of us?” JD asked.

“Yep,” Vin said softly, turning so his back was to the rest of the room. “And he can’t just shoot you. He’s gotta kill you up close and personal. Buck‘s too big and they‘re scared to death of Chris, so he‘s trying to figure out which of you two he can gut.”

“And you?” Ezra asked.

“I reckon their pa’s got plans for me,” Vin said with a shrug.

Chris kept his attention on their jailers, watching as the small one started pacing, his face twisting in rage. “They’re up to something,” Chris said as he tapped Vin’s leg with his foot.

Vin turned around so he faced them again and settled back next to Chris.

The kid said something Chris didn’t understand, but Chris didn’t let his frustration show. He hated being the one in the dark, here, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Boy’s a mite riled I won’t give him a name. He’s not used to there bein’ things he can’t take just ‘cause he wants ‘em.” Vin said, giving the same little half-shrug he’d been using all night. It was deceptively casual and likely to cause irritation in the one it was aimed at.

And it didn’t take long for the kid’s irritation to spill over.

“You have to,” the kid whined, coming to a stop in front of Vin.

Vin shrugged again. “Don’t see why.”

“Because you’re kin!”

All movement ceased on the peacekeepers’ side of the bars and Chris was sure three other jaws hung as low as his own did.

“Distant kin, and I ain’t giving you a name. If I did, it’d be one you sure as hell wouldn’t want.”

“Kin’s kin. If pa hadn’t a stole ne-he-ma from her family, we’d’ve been raised kin!”

“Ain’t true,” Vin said. “Yer ma’s band was all killed at Council House. No amount of wishing’s gonna change the past.”

“But you said your grandfather led the ones that got away. You said so!” The kid worked himself into a lather and Chris didn’t miss the look of interest that crossed the oldest of the boys’ faces.

“You weren’t lying, were ya?” the older kid asked as he too, came closer to the bars.

Chris shared a look with Buck. If the third one would come closer, they might have a shot.

“Nope,” Vin said, getting up and moving closer to the front of the cell. “Weren’t lying to ya.”

“You said,” the little one snarled and sputtered a little. “You said he led raids killing taivo even though his woman used to be taivo.”

“And I told ya he stopped before I was even born ‘cause he knew killing whites weren’t the way to save the people,” Vin snarled out. “All it did was get more of ‘em killed ‘till there weren‘t hardly any of the Texas bands left.”

“There’s still plenty left up north and I’m gonna join ‘em when I’m older!”

“Kid, the army’s going to track you down and kill you for what you done. Hell, they’re going to kill lots of other folk who’re jist trying to find a way to survive and it’s gonna be yer fault!”

“Vin,” Chris said loud enough for Vin to hear him, but soft enough so’s he wouldn’t turn on him. Vin was more worked up than Chris had ever seen him and it worried Chris more than a little to see the effect these killers had on Vin’s mind.

“You seen what they done, Chris, all them people killed. The little kids and women skinned.” Vin said, a little softer. “You was in the army, what do you think is gonna happen?”

Chris didn’t get a chance to answer before the boy started shouting again.

“Ne-he-ma done told me what the army does, I don’t need you telling me! The taivo kills us like we’re buffalo or wolves until there ain’t any of us left. They kill babies, old people, women… so don’t you tell me it’s my fault. Ain’t my fault. Before the taivo came we Comanche ruled the world. Then they came and spread sickness and lied and killed us. I’m gonna kill every single one of them till there ain’t a one left anywhere.”

The kid stood glaring at Vin, his shoulders shaking as he tried to get control of his breathing. Vin and the boy stared each other a long moment before either of them said anything.

“JD?” Vin called out softly. “How many people live in New York City?”

JD looked to Chris for permission before answering. “About a million or so, I’d guess, maybe more.”

“Ezra,” Vin asked, still keeping his eyes locked with the kid’s. “How many soldiers get killed in the war?”

“Some people say half a million, some people say more. I don‘t believe there has ever been an accurate casualty census.”

“You’re gonna kill ‘em all, huh?” Vin asked, getting control of his voice and his emotions. “The only chance the Comanche have to survive is to make peace.”

“I don’t care about surviving. I care about revenge!” the boy shouted. “They all need to die for what they done to us.”

“You fergetting yer one ‘them’?” Vin asked.

“I ain’t one of them!” he shouted even louder, viciously kicking over a chair, scattering the broken pieces in all directions.

“Shore’s yer pa, ain’t he?”

“Only cause he stole my ma from her people!”

"Kin's kin, right?" Vin sneered, echoing the kid's words moments earlier.

"Not with him, it ain't."

"And he don't let you forget it, does he!" Vin's sharp words had all three of the kids standing more tense than even before. “And look at you. Yer all still with him, ain’t you?”

“Only cause we’re too young to go out getting revenge on our own! And with him, we get to kill as many taivo as we want.”

“If'n you're old enough to have your warrior names, you're old enough to get your revenge without clinging to his boots. I think the taivo you’d be best off killing is him,” Vin said as he turned his back on them to face Chris.

Chris was surprised that none of the three boys reacted more to Vin's suggestion than to keep glaring. He could only hope that Vin had managed to sow seeds that grew fast.

His expression near on unreadable, Vin slouched to the ground to sit next to Chris.

“Vin,” Buck said, “what hell was that!”

“Not now, Bucklin,” Vin ground out through clenched teeth. He took Chris' hand into his lap and asked, “How’s it feel?”

Chris let him get away with changing the subject, knowing it was best to keep quiet for the time being, and because his arm really did hurt like hell. Didn't feel much up to pushing Vin about anything. “Feels like it’s broken,” Chris answered after a minute. He bit back a groan as Vin adjusted the splints and Vin finally dropped his hand.

“Sorry,” Vin said but wouldn’t meet Chris’ eyes.

“Think it will work?” Chris asked.

Vin shrugged and was about to say something, but the door flew open, slamming into the room with a bang.

The three boys jumped as Shore entered the jailhouse, followed by half his men.

“All you had to do was sit here and watch them so we could rest up. What the fuck is going on in here?” Shore yelled. “Damn half-grown mongrels, can’t even do a boy’s job,” he spit, dressing down the boys. They scattered to different parts of the room, the smallest one right by the window he’d used to get the food.

“We gonna do this now, boss?” one of the bandits asked and Shore stopped glaring at the boys to nod to him.

“Might as well. We’ll have a little extra time for some fun.” He turned to the smallest boy and ordered, “Go get my saddlebags. Go on, git,” he said, a little louder.

As soon as the boy started moving, he turned his attention to the cells and the peacekeepers.

Chris was already on his feet; he’d used Shore’s distraction to quietly stand, Vin giving him an arm up so he didn’t look weak trying to stagger to his feet without the use of his right arm.

He moved forward a little, Vin to his right and behind him and Ezra leaning on the wall at the rear of the cell. Ezra was a little pale and needed the wall, but he was on his feet under his own power. Good.

JD and Buck had come to their feet too, with Buck at the front of the cell, just behind where Chris stood in his own cell and JD a little behind him.

Shore studied them all for a long moment, eyeballing each of them in turn. Chris eyeballed him right back. He didn’t know what was coming; would it be a quick bullet to encourage one of them to talk or would it be something more sinister?

Shore took a seat on the corner of the desk, looking each of them over again. “Get the breed out of there,” Shore ordered.

The four men with him all drew their guns and the middle boy produced the keys, tossing them to the closest outlaw.

For a brief moment, a hand settled on his lower back, a light flick of Vin’s thumb giving a soft caress. “Riding with you’s been the best year of my life,” Vin whispered so only Chris could hear. “See ya in hell,” he said a little louder as he stepped past Chris and to the front of the bars.

“What a brave little man,” Shore sneered as Vin stepped out of the cell without anyone dragging him.

“Jist get it over with,” Vin said, sighing, his voiced pitched with just the right touch of boredom. Man could annoy anyone, even the most even-tempered person when he was of a mind to and Shore wasn’t very even tempered.

“Let me guess,” Shore said to Vin, “you aren’t going to tell me anything.”

Vin didn’t answer and Chris couldn’t see his face.

“Caleb, go in there and get his coat,” Shore said, still staring at Vin like he was trying to figure out what to do with him.

Chris didn’t bother watching the boy dart into the cell and back out again, holding Vin’s coat tight his hands. Ezra moved closer to Chris while everyone watched the boy, using the distraction to take Vin’s position at his back.

Chris noticed the smallest boy slipping into the room then, heavy saddlebags draped over his arm. He darted forward and deposited the bags on the desk, then got out of arm’s reach. Time slowed down for Chris, almost coming to a stop. Each movement in the room registered on him, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Vin, standing tall, shoulders squared, a few feet away from Shore.

Shore held up Vin’s coat, giving it a shake to straighten it out. “Bobby, you can have this. You were always after your mother to make you one. One of her people made this, you can tell by the stitching. It’s got a pattern on the neck, just under the collar marking it too.”

All three boys stared at Vin hard then and Chris knew, deep down inside that the stories Vin told those boys were the absolute truth and not some kind of con. They were his kin and Vin had Comanche blood. Whatever reasons Vin had for not telling him weren’t important. What was important was that Chris would have to stand there and watch Vin die. And maybe Buck, and JD, and Ezra too, if he was really unlucky.

He couldn’t do it. He wanted to be the first to die, if it was going to come to that, and it looked like it was. Hope was one thing, but time had run out. He wanted to be the first to die, and if that made him a coward, well that made him a coward.

“None of us are going to tell you anything,” Chris said, trying to turn the attention in his own direction. “Army was less than a day behind us. If you ride out now, you might be able to disappear into Mexico.”

“You really do think I’m a half-wit,” Shore said, snorting a little in amusement. “We cut the only telegraph line within twenty miles of the station, so unless you have a way of talking to the army through the air, you boys are on your own out here.”

Vin fidgeted a little, shifting his weight so he was leaning forward. There wasn’t anything the rest of them could do to help him, locked up like they were and Chris tried to send a message to Vin-- get out, don’t worry about us. But they communicated through facial expression and body language, not through some kind of invisible telegraph wire, like Buck liked to joke. Vin couldn’t see him to get the message and Chris didn’t think he’d leave them to face down the outlaws even if he could.

Shore turned away from Chris to grab hold of his saddlebags, the quiet in the air hanging heavy. The bandit next to Vin licked his lips in anticipation and Chris wanted to close his eyes. The unfairness of it all hit him hard right then-- he was going to lose someone else he loved and he was going to have to watch it happen this time. He wouldn’t ride up hours too late to do anything, too late to do anything but bury the dead. At least this time, he was going to die too. Surprisingly, the idea held some comfort.

Shore turned around, holding up a wicked looking knife, the lamplight catching it just so, so that it seemed to glow. “You ever skinned anyone, breed?” Shore asked, raising an eyebrow at Vin.

Vin lunged forward and it took everything Chris had not to fling himself at the bars. Shore was ready for Vin’s move though, as were his men. As Vin lunged, Shore moved to the side and raised his fist, swinging just as Vin landed on him. The other men joined in and had Vin surrounded in an instant. He put up a fight, elbows, knees, fists flying, landing with a thud at each contact. Time still moved too slow, still held Chris a captive witness.

The blows rained down on Vin from every direction and he was soon on the floor, curled into a ball, soft belly covered, arms over his head, protecting his head and neck, deflecting the worst of the blows aimed that way. He didn’t make a sound as blows landed all over his exposed back and legs; Chris wouldn’t dishonor him by making a sound either.

“Get him up here,” Shore said as his men stopped beating and kicking Vin. They stood, catching their breath, as Shore swept the desk clear of the boys’ toys and remnants of their dinner.

Chris kept his eyes on Shore, kept his face a hard mask. His rage built; rage over his own helplessness, his impotency, his mistakes that led them all here.

Shore grabbed a fistfull of Vin’s hair, viciously yanking his head so he could meet his already swelling eyes. “That was stupid,” he said casually.

“What’s stupid is expecting me to go like a lamb to slaughter,” Vin spit out, spraying Shore’s face with blood as he spat. “I ain’t telling you where the gold is,” Vin said, spraying Shore with more blood.

Shore wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand, the hand still holding that wicked looking knife. “I don’t expect you to,” he said with a smile. “Your friends, however,” he shrugged. Shore motioned to his men with his hand and they hauled Vin into the air by his arms, then slammed him face down onto the desk.

Chris fought to keep control, to keep his mouth shut, fought the urge to make some kind of deal to end this here and now. But any deal wouldn’t be honored, he *knew* that, but the temptation was still there.

“Tie his hands,” Shore ordered one of his men before he turned to face the cells again. He moved slowly to Buck and JD’s cell, coming close enough for Buck to grab him through the bars. Buck surprised Chris and only moved to shift to the right, so he nearly blocked JD from Shore’s view.

“I don’t expect the breed to talk,” Shore said. “He won’t, I know that. If he was raised Comanche, he’ll die without flinching and probably die better than most white men. But you,” he pointed a finger at JD, then turned to point a finger at Ezra. “The two of you might change your minds after we’re done with him. When we’re done with him, one of you is next.” Shore didn’t bother watching the effect his words had on any of them, turning his attention back to Vin.

“Get his clothes off him,” Shore ordered his men.

Vin struggled, raising his bound hands and trying to get off the desk, but the outlaw closest to him grabbed the back of his head and slammed him face first into the desk, hard enough to make his head bounce and hard enough for the sound to echo through the room.

He went still for a second, then thrashed again, weakened but still fighting. He’d go out fighting, just like Chris would. All of them would fight until they took their last breath. Chris couldn’t see Vin’s face, his head turned so he faced the opposite wall. He was laid out sideways to them, his head furthest away from Chris’ cell. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but even his labored breathing was almost silent.

“You can stop this,” Shore said to Chris. “One word and it’s over. Me and my boys were looking forward to some fun, but we want the gold more than we want to see his blood.”

Chris didn’t answer, just stared at Shore, giving his answer by refusing to answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Shore said with a theatrical sigh. “Get his clothes off him,” Shore said again, motioning to his men.

The man holding Vin’s head pulled a knife from his belt and flipped it to another of them. He slashed at Vin’s clothes, cutting them free, blood welling up where he cut too deep and cut into Vin’s skin. Chris stood frozen, unable to avert his eyes as the bright red blood welled up from the cuts.

Vin flinched as the knife cut away his pants and drawers, but he was still too dazed to put up another fight.

Once Vin was bared, still laying face-down on the remnants of his clothing, Shore moved to the foot of the desk, between Vin’s legs. He rested his hand on Vin’s ass, pushing him further down onto the hard wooden edge of the desk, crushing his dick and balls. An evil grin split his features, sending ice through Chris’ veins. If he was a praying man, he’d start praying-- no not that, don’t…

“Too bad you killed Skeet on the trail,” Shore said, still smiling. “Old Skeet would fuck anything that had a hole. Women, girls, men, boys, animals, hell Skeet would fuck a knot hole!”

The other men started laughing, remembering their friend.

Shore kicked Vin’s legs further apart, exposing his hole and his balls. The way he was splayed out on that desk, he was in just the right position to be used. Chris had to bite back his shouts then. If he thought it would do a lick of good, he might even go down on his knees and beg, but he knew better and the knowledge kept him quiet.

“You fucking pig,” Buck shouted. “Yer a sorry excuse for a man, you sack of shit!” Buck yelled even louder, grabbing the bars as if he could pull them apart with his bare hands.

Shore took his time turning away from Vin and casually approached the bars. He peered around Buck to look at JD and Chris spared a glance at JD, noting his paleness and fear before turning his eyes back to Shore.

Shore crossed his arms and leaned against the side wall, just out of Buck‘s reach. He stared at his hands, cleaning a fingernail before looking at Buck, a grin twisting his features. “Funny you all are more worked up by the idea of him being fucked than him being gutted, ain’t it?”

Chris wanted to look at his own men again then, but he kept his eyes locked with Shore’s, searing that face into his mind.

Shore dismissed Chris and turned back to his men, casually strolling back to the desk, taking up position between Vin‘s splayed legs. “You boys think we should fuck him? You think that will get one of them talking?” Shore asked his men. He waited for their answer, running the tip of his knife along Vin’s ass, then along his balls.

“Maybe if we fuck this one before we skin ‘em, the next one will talk as soon as we get him up there,” one of the men said.

“You’re still wanting to stick your dick in something since Skeet killed the women before you got your chance, Cates,” Shore said. “But if you really want to…” he waved his arm and stepped back.

“Nah, not if no one else is going to,” the outlaw said. “I can wait till we get the gold and I can buy a woman.”

“I guess no one wants to fuck him,” Shore said to Chris with a chuckle. “Though if I kept him around to fuck, he wouldn’t go pushing out a little mongrel every year.” Shore shrugged and turned back to face his men. “I think once I have my gold, I’ll get a new woman and not some red bitch set on murdering me. I’m thinking a nice young thing I can buy from one of the houses down in Mexico.”

“Won’t keep a camp like your squaw did though,” one of the other men said.

Shore glanced at Chris, then back at Vin, splayed out on the desk. With a casual flick of his knife, he opened a long wound down the back of Vin’s thigh. Shallow and long, it was a skinning cut, not one designed to bleed him out or even to cut the meat of his thigh. Shore studied his handiwork, then looked back at his men.

“True,” Shore said, nodding to them. “If I got one young enough, she’d keep a good camp for a time, until she got it in her head she might be able to kill me. But I'd still have the problem of filthy bastards popping out damn near every year. It took the last bitch a good fifteen years and ten useless mongrels before she came at me.”

He shook his head again as he made another cut across the back of Vin’s thigh, parallel to the first. Chris wished he didn’t have such a good view, wished he could tear his eyes away when Vin flinched but didn’t make a sound. Still dazed, but not out completely, Vin struggled and got his head slammed down again for his troubles.

Chris couldn’t tear his eyes away from the red lines, spilling more of Vin’s blood with each passing heartbeat. He wanted to turn away, to hide in the back of the cell. He wanted to rip the door down with his bare hands, to kick and punch and bite and unleash all of the rage he’d ever built in his life onto these men; instead he could only stand silently as Shore laughed and reminisced about his slave woman.

Movement from the corner of the room had Chris looking that way, a distraction finally giving him the push to take his eyes off Vin while Shore waved his bloody knife in the air and droned on about his woman. Chris didn’t listen close as he talked about how he killed her, instead he watched the youngest boy’s face, watched him grow angry, finger his gunbelt as he listened to his pa call his ma a dog while he cut the life out of Vin.

"Still ain't talking, breed? What about you fellas?" Shore asked, nodding toward Chris and the others. Chris swallowed a hard lump in his throat, refusing to be goaded into giving that son of a bitch a single word.

Shore looked all of them in the eye, in turn, until a whole new grin twisted his face. Chris felt his stomach drop to the floor, realizing that Shore had come up with something else to torture Vin. Whatever it was, Chris knew it would be worse than what he'd done so far, and that scared the shit out of him.

"Hey, guys? What to you do with an ornery animal that won't pay no mind?" At the shrugs from his men, Shore sauntered back between Vin's legs. "You geld it, of course."

Chris felt all the blood drain from his face. Shore looked right at him, a cold, hard glint in his eyes, and Chris knew he wasn't bluffing. Shore looked away then, staring down at Vin's balls, head cocked to the side, like he was just contemplating the best way to cut 'em off.

As Chris swallowed down the bile gathered at the back of his throat, Shore reached up and snatched a handful of Vin's hair. With a yank and then a shove back down, he had Vin's cheek slammed into the desk so that he was facing the cells.

"Take a good look at a breed's face just as he's about to become a breed gelding."

"Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

Chris heard JD's soft mantra, the same one Chris was muttering silently to himself. Wasn't any god to help them now, though, Chris knew. His eyes were drawn to Vin's, and he saw panic shining in them, even though Vin had yet to utter a word. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and Vin's mouth opened in a silent scream.

Chris flicked his eyes in Shore's direction, and he saw the point of his knife raise from Vin's balls, new blood dripping from the tip. He'd made a slice, clean down the middle of the sack.

Fury at Shore, fear for Vin, and his own utter helplessness culminated in overwhelming nausea, and Chris had to fight down the urge to vomit.

Chris couldn’t make a decision; look away, look at Vin’s face, or keep staring at the blood flowing freely from his groin. It didn’t well out and spill like the cuts on his thigh, it poured from the wound, his sack split open down the middle, his balls glistening in the blood. Chris did vomit then, but he wouldn’t let it out. If Vin didn’t make a sound having his balls cut open, Chris could swallow a little puke. He wouldn’t be weak; it was bad enough he was helpless.

He tore his eyes from the gore, shifting to Vin’s face. Vin had squeezed his eyes shut tight, and bit his lip until the blood flowed from it too. Time didn’t slow down; it had stopped. He could hear Buck yelling, could hear Ezra puking and JD still chanting “oh god, oh god,” but those barely registered in his brain. The sounds were filed away, frozen in time; a memory that would never be erased.

Vin’s eyes opened, then his mouth; he stared at a spot against the wall. He struggled for a breath, finally got hold of some air and said something Chris didn’t understand. Chris tore his eyes from Vin’s face, followed his line of sight until he was staring into the smallest boy’s face. The boy shook his head; he’d understood what Vin said. He shook his head again and whispered, “no.”

He couldn’t decide who to look at-- Vin or the boy. He wanted Vin to look at him, to lock eyes with him the way he had done with the boy. His face should be the last thing Vin saw, not the face of some murdering little bastard.

Chris heard Vin, didn’t see him; he watched the boy… a soft whisper, words harsh and choked, barely able to speak. “Kill me!” Vin said, again, Chris realized.

The plea barely registered in Chris’ mind before the boy had his gun raised, pointed straight at Vin.

“NO!” It was the first sound Chris made but it was drowned out by gunfire. He turned his head, afraid of what he’d see, but before he could get a lock on Vin, before he could sort the sounds, just as he registered the multiple shots fired, pain, hot, searing and demanding knocked him to his knees. He grabbed at his head; he’d been shot, he realized as the world went black. His last thought was of Vin. ‘See you in hell.’

*****

One second, Buck stood frozen in horror as Vin was sliced open by that sick fuck, the next, bullets were flying and he was trying to get JD to duck down out of the way of the bullets. He swallowed over the lump in his throat; he might have been yelling when the guy sliced open Vin’s balls, but he wasn’t sure. His throat sure felt like it.

“Chris!” Ezra shouted and Buck looked over to try to get a read on the situation. ‘Oh god‘, he felt like groaning, but JD had been doing enough of that for all of them. Chris was down, that he could see, but he couldn’t see how or why. Ezra dragged his unmoving body away from the bars, back to where it was a little safer. He shoved Chris under the cot and tried to tip it over for cover, but it wouldn’t come off the wall. Buck nodded to Ezra when he caught his eye. Buck needed to take action too, damn it, not cower at the back of the cell.

“You stay put!” he ordered JD, shoving him under the cot and as close to the wall as he could get him. More bullets whizzed overhead so he stuck close to the floor, crawling his way to the front of the bars. The sharp ‘ping ping ping’ of a ricocheting bullet flew too close to his head for comfort. Buck made himself relax, made his mind slow down a little, finally was able to get a read on the situation. A gunfight raged in the tiny, overcrowded building and they were all smack dab right in the middle of it, unarmed.

‘Kill me.’ He’d never forget that plea, not for as long as he lived. Buck had heard it loud and clear, knew what Vin begged for even when he begged in a language Buck didn’t understand.

After that was when it got confusing. Buck raised his head once the pinging of the ricochet flying around his head faded. Vin. He wasn’t on the desk, confirming to Buck what he *thought* he’d seen. The boy pulled his gun all right; pointed it right at Vin’s head. But then things got a little murky.

Movement caught Buck’s eye and he darted forward, to the far front corner of the cell. Maybe he’d get lucky and any bullet coming his way would run into the bars and not him. Hell, it could happen, he was a lucky kind of guy. Suddenly, a body came into reach of Buck’s long arms and he reached out, grabbed hold and yanked.

Got him! Buck wrapped the crook of his arm around his captive’s throat and squeezed. Was tempted to squeeze the life right out of him, but he wasn’t ready to kill his prize. He covered his own body with the kid’s body, protecting himself from the still flying lead. He grabbed the gun out of the boy’s hand before he could point it back and into Buck’s face.

It was the oldest of the three and Buck had a hold on him good and tight. Gunshots rang out sporadically while he held tight to his captive and shield.

“I got his gun,” JD yelled as he grabbed for the gun in Buck’s hand. Buck let it go and got a better, two-handed, hold on the squirming, kicking kid. With one arm wrapped around the kid’s throat and the other free to get a better grip, Buck pulled him so hard against the bars, he’d pop through if he were a mite skinnier.

Shots rang out from behind him; JD joining the fight. Dammit! Buck ordered that boy to stay back under better cover.

He risked a look into the room, caught sight of a man going down, a bullet hole smack-dab in the center of his forehead. Chaos reigned and the only thought in Buck’s head was keeping hold of his hostage.

One more shot rang out, a high-pitched scream right after it, then silence save for heavy breathing.

“Let him go,” the smallest boy said, from directly in front of Buck and Buck adjusted his grip on his captive so he could see over his shoulder.

“Can’t do that, kid,” Buck said. He took a better look at the boy, who stood swaying, like he was about to go down any second. Blood covered his left shoulder, streamed down his arm and tears tracked down his face.

“You killed pa,” the one Buck held shouted at his brother. “You killed him!”

He’d been right, Buck realized. He thought that was what he saw, and he thought right. Instead of shooting Vin, showing him the mercy he begged for, the boy pointed his gun at his pa and pulled the trigger.

Buck glanced at the body, lying half-under the desk; a third eye, right between the regular two.

“Nice shootin,” Buck said casually. “Now put that gun down.”

“No. You let him go,” the boy said, waving his gun.

“Son, you’re about to fall on your ass,” Buck said, snarling. “You ain’t in any position to be givin orders.”

“Buck,” JD said softly.

Buck glanced over his shoulder at JD, who’d pointed to the other side of the room. The third boy stood silently, his gun pointed at JD. JD returned the favor.

“You throw us the keys, I’ll let him go,” Buck said.

“No,” the boy shook his head, tears falling harder. He gave a little moan and wobbled on his feet a little more.

Buck shook the one he held. “You want to get your little brother out of here, you give us the keys and go. No one else will get shot today.”

No answer, but Buck could feel his pulse; it throbbed through Buck’s arm where he had the boy by the neck. He loosened his grip some and the boy took in a big, choking breath. “Do it,” he wheezed out. “The rest of them are gonna be here soon. We got to go!”

Buck turned his attention to the third boy, the wildcard in all this. He looked unharmed, his gun still smoking from all the shooting he’d done. Buck would put money on this boy being the one to gun down most of the rest of the adults. He studied Buck’s face and Buck studied him back.

The boy motioned to Buck with his gun; Buck knew what he wanted but he wasn’t about to do it.

“I ain’t letting him go until we got the keys in our hands, so you can forget about it,” Buck said. “Don’t you talk?”

Indecision froze the boy, Buck knew. Hell, someone had to make a decision and one shot little boy, one Buck had in a chokehold and one who showed no signs of understanding just wasn’t going to cut it.

“Do it, son,” Buck ordered. He wished Chris was on his feet, the boy would listen to him.

The little one went down with a thud and a yelp and that got the middle one moving. He kept his gun trained on JD while he darted to his little brother’s side and fished in his pocket for the key. He tossed the key ring within reach, but not into the cell, but Buck didn’t loosen his hold on the other boy just yet.

The silent one gathered his little brother close, trying to get a look at his wound while still covering the three upright adults in the cells.

Buck considered not letting the boy go, considered taking that gun from JD and shooting the third boy. That would put an end to this right quick. But the kid was still armed and they didn’t need more bullets flying. He still didn’t know how Chris and Vin were, or even if either of them was still breathing. He thought Vin was under the desk, but he just wasn’t sure.

“Ezra,” Buck called. “You all right?”

“I have no new holes, but am far from all right,” Ezra answered. “Mr Larabee has been shot in the head.”

Buck gave the kid he held another hard shake. “If I let you go, are you going to take them and git?”

“Yes sir,” the kid wheezed out and Buck took a chance. He let him go and stepped back from the bars.

“Go!” Buck yelled, anxious to get them and their guns out of there.

The boy dropped to his knees, but quickly staggered to his feet and stumbled toward his brothers, the third boy still aiming his gun at Buck and JD. Shit, the standoff wasn’t over.

“Gimme the gun, Crow,” the biggest boy ordered, but the other shook his head, dropping his little brother into the other’s arms before standing, gun still aimed at Buck’s head.

“You can get out of here, boy, or you can die,” Buck ground out.

He opened his mouth and squawked something incoherent.

“Oh God,” JD said, again.

The boy had no tongue; no wonder he hadn’t said a word all night.

He squawked again, but his gun held steady, pointed right at them. Tense moments passed. Shit, the rest of the gang could show any second.

The oldest boy must have shared Buck’s thoughts because he scooped up his little brother, the little boy’s head lolling over his arm, and shouted, “Let’s go!”

“Caleb, do I get my name now?” the smallest asked, raising his head.

“Sure, Little Chief,” the oldest said softly, locking eyes with Buck.

The middle one covered the other two as they staggered toward the door. Buck wanted to shout, ‘git,’ to get them moving. He needed out of that cell and to get his hands on one of the downed men’s guns. Until he had a gun in his hand, able to protect himself and his friends, he wouldn’t feel the relief he was due.

“Wait,” the little one slurred and the threesome stopped again. “Hurts,” he said when his brother stopped moving.

“We have to go, Little Chief,” the oldest said as he started moving again.

“No, we gotta take Vin with us,” the kid nearly whispered.

“If he ain’t dead yet, he will be soon, little brother,” Caleb said, not taking his eyes off Buck. He backed out of the room and the third boy followed, still aiming his gun at them.

Once he was sure they were gone, Buck snagged the keys from the floor and fought with the lock. He couldn’t get the damn key in! Finally, he had the door open. He rushed to the nearest body and picked up the dead man’s gun. He felt better immediately, the weight of a gun the only comfort available to him.

“Kid,” Buck nearly shouted, “Check on Vin, then cover the doors. The rest of them could show up any time.”

Buck quickly opened Ezra and Chris’ cell, but didn’t step inside. “He still breathing?” he asked Ezra, completely afraid of the wrong answer. Chris couldn’t be dead, not like this.

Ezra nodded. “I think he was hit by a ricochet,” he said as he hurried through the cell door and to one of the bodies. “Let’s secure our immediate surroundings now, or it will not matter if he is alive or dead,” Ezra said, as he plucked a gun from the outlaw’s death grip. It was direct and awfully plain spoken for Ezra.

Buck glanced at Chris, still shoved half-under the cot and still not moving. Ezra was right, there would be time enough for taking care of the wounded once the rest of the outlaws were dead.

“JD,” Buck called out, “you guard them and don’t let anyone in here. We’ll be back as soon as we take care of the rest of them.”

JD opened his mouth to argue and Buck shouted, “They can’t protect themselves, JD, you have to.”

JD nodded and Buck followed Ezra out of the jail and into the dark of night. It had to be coming up on dawn by now, but the sky wasn’t showing any signs of dawn yet. It had been the longest night of Buck’s life and it wasn’t nearly over.

*****

“Buck,” Ezra called from the shadows to Buck’s right. He stopped moving and waited for Ezra to say whatever it was couldn’t wait.

“There are at least a half-dozen of them still unaccounted for. We should stick together and not leave sight of the jail. That is where they will appear and it is where they will attack.”

Buck nodded. Damn, Ezra was right and here he was ready to go off racing in the dark to track down the bastards.

“We must act defensively. With two of our number hurt, and us outnumbered at least two to one, wouldn’t you agree?” Ezra asked Buck and Buck nodded.

“You seem to be in shock, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra said as Buck moved closer to him, close enough to make out each other’s faces in the near dark.

“I’m all right,” Buck said, “just need to get my head together, Ezra.”

Ezra raised his hand, silencing Buck and Buck turned his head in the direction Ezra indicated. Horse’s hooves pounded, a good distance down the street and not the kids. They were long gone-- they’d heard them ride off before they were even out of the jailhouse.

“You think they’re running?” Buck asked Ezra.

“One can only hope,” Ezra muttered. “Thank the lord,” Ezra said, louder, pointing to the horizon.

“Oh, thank you,” Buck muttered to the lightening sky.

“As soon as visibility improves, we can return to the jailhouse. We’ll be able to properly mount a defense as soon as they lose the cover of darkness.”

Buck nodded. And as soon as they had Chris and Vin sorted, two of them would search the town for the remaining outlaws.

Once the first signs of dawn appeared on the distant horizon, it broke fast, turning the shadows of night into the flat, gray light of pre-dawn. By unspoken agreement, Buck and Ezra split up, approaching the jail from opposite directions, securing the surrounding area.

Buck, first to announce his arrival and step inside, met an agitated JD at the door.

“Buck,” JD said, eyes wide with worry. “Vin pulled a gun on me. I think he woulda shot me,” JD said, talking so quick his words ran together. “There’s a puddle of blood coming from under the desk and I don’t know if it’s his or Shore’s.”

“He’s got Shore’s gun?” Buck asked, eyes flicking toward the desk.

“He must have grabbed it after Shore went down,” JD said.

“Okay, kid, you help Chris, I’ll see to Vin,” Buck said, clapping JD on the shoulder. The boy done good and Buck wanted to let him know. But now wasn’t the time.

“Chris has got a bullet in his head, Buck,” JD said quietly.

“He alive?”

JD nodded, mouth open, ready to say something else, but before he could, Ezra was there, leading him away.

“Let Mr. Wilmington see to Vin before Vin bleeds to death. You and I will see to Mr Larabee,” Ezra said.

Buck watched them go, then turned his attention to the desk and the pool of blood spilling out from under it. He kicked at Shore’s body, felt the insane urge to pump it full of lead, but that was stupid. Hell, Vin would probably shoot his ankle if he did that.

He was too big to get under there with Vin, he had to get him to come out somehow. He reached down and grabbed Shore’s body, dragging it out by the shoulders. He yanked the dead weight hard, getting him out of the way so he could get down under there with Vin.

He was too big for this, he nearly sighed. Down on his belly, he inched forward until he could see into the dark, small space. First thing to greet him was the barrel of a gun, pointed straight at his head.

“You ain’t gonna shoot me, Vin, are ya?” Buck asked softly.

“Buck?” Vin’s voice, weakened by blood loss and pain, met Buck. The gun didn’t move though.

“It’s me,” Buck agreed. “I want to help you, Vin,” Buck said. “Will ya let me?”

Silence answered his question. He couldn’t push; there was no telling what Vin would do, the state of mind he was in.

“Chris?” Vin asked just as Buck was about to lose his very last bit of patience.

“He’s down, Vin.”

“Dead?” Vin choked out.

Buck shook his head and Vin didn’t answer, his ragged breathing the only sound meeting Buck. Realizing Vin probably couldn’t see him, Buck said softly, “I don’t know, Vin. Last I knew he was still breathing.”

“Check?” Vin nearly begged.

“How about you let me see to you?” Buck asked him softly. He needed Vin to put that gun down, but it didn’t look like he was in any kind of mind to do it.

“Check Chris,” Vin said again.

“All right,” Buck said. “You hold tight and I’ll be right back.”

Buck slithered out from under the desk and climbed to his feet. He couldn’t leave Vin there to bleed to death, but he didn’t see how he had any choice in the matter. He didn’t think Vin would shoot him, but Vin sure as hell wasn’t in his right mind. No telling what someone who was deadly to begin with would do when he was hurt, cornered and scared.

Ezra and JD had Chris pulled out from under the cot and stretched out on top of it and both of them jumped so high, it would have been funny in a different situation when Buck asked, “He still with us?”

Once JD calmed down a little he met Buck’s eyes and nodded. “He’s alive, but I don’t know how, Buck,” JD said, voice rising.

“He really get shot in the head?” Buck asked, turning his attention to Ezra.

“Unfortunately,” Ezra said.

“You have to see this, Buck,” JD said, pointing at the side of Chris’ head.

Buck leaned down and reached out to touch the lump plainly visible just below Chris’ temple. “What the hell is that?” Buck asked.

“The bullet,” Ezra said. “It appears he was struck by a ricochet.” Ezra gently turned Chris’ head to the side and pointed out a bloody wound on the back of his skull. “A bullet fragment entered here, and when it encountered Mr. Larabee’s iron skull, it did not penetrate the bone, instead it followed this path.” Ezra pointed to a swollen, purple groove along Chris’ scalp that ended at the large lump.

“Shit,” Buck said softly. What the hell did they do now.

“It should come out,” Ezra said.

“You’re right, but how?” Buck asked, glancing at both JD and Ezra.

“I’ll remove it,” Ezra volunteered. “It’s resting just under the skin. Since you can ‘sew a pretty stitch,’ as you said earlier, you may close the wound.”

Buck nodded. He could do that.

“Will he make it?” JD asked.

Buck didn’t know the answer, didn’t even try to give one.

Ezra had an answer, though. “He’s breathing well, JD. We’ll have to wait and see. Only time will tell.”

“How’s Vin?” JD asked Buck.

“Oh shit!” Buck nearly shouted. “ I damn near forgot about him. He wouldn’t let me near him until I checked on Chris. I’m not even sure he’ll let me near him now.”

“He’s still with us, then?” Ezra asked and Buck could hear a faint note of hope in Ezra’s tone.

Buck rested his hand on Ezra’s back for a brief moment. “He’s still with us, but near as I can tell, he’s close to bleeding out. He’s got a grip on Shore’s gun and he ain’t letting go.”

“You’ll have to convince him, then, Mr. Wilmington. I suggest you apply all of your considerable charm. Mr. Dunne and I will see to Mr. Larabee and secure the area from the remnants of the gang.”

Buck nodded to Ezra and stood to stretch. Now how the hell was he supposed to get a hurt and cornered grizzly to let him help him?

*****

“Vin?” Buck called out before he made a move to get down on the floor with Vin again. “It’s me, pard.”

Vin didn’t respond and Buck got down on his belly and slithered into the tight space. A little more light penetrated the gloom and Buck could just make out Vin, curled into a ball, the gun cradled in his still bound hands.

“Can I take that?” Buck asked when he saw Vin’s eyes glittering in the dim light.

Vin pulled his arms out of reach, still holding tight to the gun.

“You keep it, Vin, it’s all right,” Buck said softly.

Hell, if it made Vin feel better to keep ahold of that gun, he’d just work around it.

“Now you be careful with that thing, all right?” Buck asked as he tried to get further into the tight space.

“Chris?” Vin asked, pain and fear coloring his soft whisper.

“He’s alive, Vin. Out cold, but that head full of rocks he’s got kept the bullet from doing too much damage. It’s a damn good thing he’s got such a hard head, ain’t it?”

“He’d threaten to shoot you for saying that,” Vin said.

“And then tell me my head is just as hard, I know, pard.” Buck went silent, watching Vin shake, watching him try to hold onto that gun. “Vin,” Buck said, trying to keep his voice even and soft. “We’ve gotta get you out of there and get that bleeding stopped. Will you let me help you?”

Vin shook his head.

Hell, he was about to just drag Vin out from under there. He was too weak to put up any kind of fight and he didn’t think Vin would really shoot him. Well, Vin probably wouldn’t shoot him, anyways.

“Vin, you know what you’re asking, pard?” Buck finally asked.

Still no answer, just Vin staring at him, still holding onto that gun.

“You’re asking me to sit here and watch you bleed to death. You gonna make me live with that?”

“You cain’t help, Buck,” Vin finally said.

“Why don’t you let me look before deciding that, pard, all right? I can’t live the rest of my life knowing I laid here chatting while you bled out. Don’t ask me to.”

Vin went quiet again, his breathing labored, his body shaking all over. Shit, something needed to be done, and soon.

“Buck,” Vin finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Buck whispered back.

“I can’t move.”

Shit. He couldn’t come out of there. Why in the hell hadn’t he said something before. Buck knew the answer to that. He was hurting and scared and his natural instinct was to protect himself. No mystery there. It didn’t take Buck long to come up with an idea.

“How about me and JD move the desk, that way you don’t have to move.”

“I ain’t wearin nothing, Buck,” Vin said.

“S’all right, Vin, it’s just us here and we already seen you in all your glory.”

“All right, Buck,” Vin finally said. “But just you. No one else.”

“I’m gonna need help moving this thing, Vin,” Buck said, losing patience, just a little.

“Please, Buck,” Vin rasped out and Buck thought he heard a hint of tears making his voice shaky.

Damn. “All right Vin, you just hold tight and I’ll get this thing moved.”

Buck slithered out from under the desk and staggered to his feet. Damn, he was tired and sore. He studied the position of the desk and where Vin was under it, finally deciding pushing it forward, exposing Vin from the backside, would be the best way to go at it. He’d try like hell to move it on his own, but he was ready to ask for help if it came down to it. The damn man was bleeding to death and he was more worried about who’d be looking at him! Stupid was what it was! Buck nearly kicked the desk in frustration but got hold of himself before he acted like a fool. He’d be a sight more panicked and uncooperative if it was his balls sliced open, maybe sliced off, that was for damn sure. Hell, he’d probably already have blown off his head with that gun.

“You ready, Vin?” Buck called as he braced his feet and grabbed hold of the long end of the large desk.

“Yeah,” Vin rasped out, his voice noticeably weaker than the last time he’d spoken.

Buck put his back into it and surprised himself when he managed to slide the thing a few inches with his first push. “Well, hot-damn,” Buck muttered, pleased as punch with himself. He pushed it another foot forward, careful not to step too close to Vin as he gained momentum. Finally, Vin’s back half was exposed. Buck froze in his tracks, poised to give another push, but the sight of Vin’s body had him frozen.

“Shit,” Buck said out loud. He dropped to the floor and hovered over Vin, not able to take his eyes off his back. “Yer bruised up there real good, pard,” Buck said, his voice shaking. Vin’s back was a mass of purple and black, one gigantic bruise from his neck to his ass. The way he lay curled up, Buck couldn’t see much lower. He was afraid to look, actually.

“Buck?” Vin asked, voice breaking again. “They there?”

“What?” Buck shook his head to clear it a little. He was almost afraid to look. He kneeled down on the floor, almost sliding in the pool of blood. His hand landed in a puddle of it, but he didn’t bother wiping it off. It was everywhere, there was no avoiding it. Shit.

“Vin,” Buck finally asked, “can you move at all?”

“Buck, I can’t barely even keep my eyes open,” Vin said softly.

“Okay pard, I’ll take care of you. Ole Buck will fix you up good as new.”

“They there?” Vin asked again.

Buck knew what he was talking about this time. He took a quick look… oh god, he was gonna be sick. “Yeah, Vin, he didn’t cut ‘em off, but you’re split wide open. We gotta get that bleeding stopped. Looks like the cuts on your leg already stopped.”

“Do what you got to,” Vin said softly. “Hurts so bad I can’t hardly stand it so I reckon a little more will either kill me or it won’t.”

“Hey, how about you keep quiet and rest up, all right?”

Vin nodded to him and Buck gave his foot a pat. Was about the only place on him wasn’t bruised. Man had to be hurting; hell, it made Buck hurt just looking at him. He tried to remember what Nathan did for JD when he got stabbed or what he did for him when he got shot. First, he had to get that bleeding stopped, then he had to stitch up the wounds. He could do it, he told himself. He’ stitched up plenty of cuts in his years.

“JD?” Buck called. He needed supplies and he wasn’t about to leave Vin to maybe bleed to death alone on the filthy floor.

“Keep him away,” Vin begged.

“It’s all right I’m sending him to get our saddlebags,” Buck said, giving Vin’s foot another pat.

Buck got up to talk to JD, hating to leave Vin there alone, but not wanting to get him worked up. He made it quick, telling JD to hurry before he came back to sit beside Vin.

“Vin?” Buck asked.

“Hmmm?”

“I’m gonna need some help when I stitch you up. Someone’s got to hold you down.”

“I won’t move,” Vin said softly.

“Vin, it’s gonna hurt like hell.”

“Already does.”

Buck went silent again, afraid to touch Vin. He sat there watching him bleed, finally deciding he couldn’t wait for JD to get back with supplies before doing something. The blood was barely flowing, but Vin had been bleeding for awhile now and even the little bit still flowing was too much. He reached out to put pressure on the wound, to maybe try to hold the flaps of the cut closed while he applied the pressure, but looking at his filthy hands, he stopped himself before he touched. Shit. Nathan was always going on about infection. What the hell was he supposed to do?

“Vin?” he asked.

“Hmmm?”

“We gotta do something to get it cleaned before I stitch you up. I hate to say this pard, but we gotta put some whiskey on it. On the ones on your leg too. They’re gonna need to be stitched.”

Vin’s eyes flew open and he shifted his head to meet Buck’s eyes. “No!” he nearly shouted.

“Vin, you want your balls to rot off? Won’t do a lick of good to stitch you up and then have you die of gangrene. Would be worse than if you bled out here and now.”

“Then let me bleed out.”

“I already thought we talked about that, Vin,” Buck said, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “Not only are you gonna make me live with watching you die when I coulda helped, but you’re gonna make me tell Chris I did it.”

“Chris gonna wake up?” Vin asked, voice going soft again.

“You drifting off on me, pard?” Buck asked, skipping right over Vin’s question. He didn’t know if Chris was ever gonna wake up.

“Nah, I’m still here.”

“Good, cause JD’s back.”

“Do what you gotta, Buck, I ain’t ready to check out just yet.”

“All right, Vin,” Buck said, resting his hand on Vin’s hip. “Let me go talk to Ez for a minute and I’ll be right back. JD’s gonna be within shouting distance, so if you need something, you just open your mouth.”

Buck nearly jumped to his feet; he was running out of time. Vin grew more pale with each passing minute and he was starting to shake. On one hand, things would go much easier if Vin passed out, but Buck knew with that much blood loss, Vin might never wake up. Dammit, he wasn’t cut out for this shit. He was gonna have to hurt Vin real bad to save his life. Wasn’t fair at all. If he ever, ever got his hands on those little bastards, he’d tear them limb from limb.

“Ez,” Buck called from outside the cell. “How’s it going?”

Ezra held up a mangled piece of lead. “I’ve removed the bullet fragment. Do you think Chris would appreciate a memento?”

“Might as well hold onto it for him, Ez. Never can tell with Chris. Do you have your flask with you?”

Ezra reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his ever present flask. “I’m surprised it wasn’t stolen but our captors had a one-track mind.”

“Chris all right?”

“Frankly, I don’t know. His head is swelling and if it’s swelling on the inside, there isn’t much we can do. But,” Ezra said, standing and wiping off his hands, “Mr. Jackson will have a more educated prognosis. I am only relying on my limited experience and not any true knowledge. How fares Mr. Tanner?”

Buck shook his head. He knew what Ezra said, but why the hell couldn’t he just come out and say it in five words or less. “He’s not good, Ezra. He’s going real pale and he’s shaking. Nathan called it shock when JD was shot. We got to get him stitched up and settled down. Got to put his feet up and get some water into him, too.”

“Do you need my assistance?”

“I’m going to need your whiskey and I’m gonna need you to hold him down while I stitch him.”

“Do you want to stitch Chris first?” Ezra asked as he handed Buck his flask.

“Is he bleeding bad?”

“No too badly,” Ezra said. “Why don’t you take a couple of sips of that whiskey, Buck.”

Buck shook his head. “Gotta save it for Vin.”

“He can’t drink any. The numbing properties of alcohol would be welcome, I’m sure, but it will worsen his condition. You, however, could use a sip or two. Your hands are shaking.”

Buck stared down at his own hands and damn if Ezra weren’t right; he was shaking like a leaf being blown through a storm.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Buck said, meeting Ezra’s eyes.

“I have confidence in you Buck. You may act like the court jester half the time, but when it comes right down to it, you always come through.”

“Thanks, Ez.” Buck mumbled as he took a drink. “Can you get the needle and thread out of my saddlebags?”

Ezra nodded and Buck went back to Vin, dropping to his knees, landing in the now-sticky blood.

It didn’t take Ezra long to appear at his side and Buck looked up to meet his eyes. “Vin? You ready?”

“Send the kid away,” Vin said softly. “I’m like to scream my head off.”

“He’ll understand, Vin,” Buck said. “We need to do this now.”

“Send ‘em away,” Vin begged.

“I’ll do it,” Ezra said as he stood. “I understand, Vin.”

Buck decided it would be a good time to soak the needle and thread, get it ready for when he’d have to use it.

As soon as Ezra returned, he nodded to Buck. “Where would you like me to hold him?” Ezra asked.

“Let me put this on him first. He’s gonna thrash and yell, but we don’t need to hold him still until I start stitching.”

Ezra nodded again and visibly braced himself.

“Okay, Vin, we’re ready. You ready?”

“Git it over with,” Vin managed to say.

Buck rolled Vin a little so he was laying on his belly instead of his side. He took a deep breath and splashed the whisky on the back of Vin’s cut-up thigh. Vin tensed and flinched, then drew in a deep breath, but he didn’t scream or even move very much.

“Okay, Vin, I’m gonna put this down below now.” Buck’s hands shook as he raised the flask. He was going to hurt his friend and hurt him bad. He had to remind himself he was doing it so Vin would have a chance at making it through this, but the rationalization didn’t sit well. His hands shook so bad, he was afraid he’d miss.

With the first splash of whiskey on the open cut, Vin drew in a deep breath that turned into a scream. He screamed on and on, sounding like a shot cougar. Buck had heard that sound once and he never wanted to hear it again. He’d add Vin’s screams, that he caused, as another sound he never wanted to hear again.

Vin curled up tight, the long-forgotten gun laying next to his still bound hands. Buck’s mind wandered as Vin screamed. He wanted to shove his hand over Vin’s mouth to make him stop, but he settled for resting his hand on Vin’s bruised back as he thrashed.

“Oh dear lord,” Ezra muttered, his face stricken.

“I know,” Buck choked out.

Vin’s screams turned into sobs and Buck met Ezra’s eyes again. “I gotta stitch him up,” Buck said, his voice breaking.

“I’ll hold him,” Ezra said, his face pale and features drawn. He looked as bad as Buck felt, but they couldn’t stop now.

“How the hell does Nathan do this?” Buck asked Ezra.

“I have no idea,” Ezra said as he positioned himself to hold Vin down.

“I mean, hurting someone this bad to *maybe* help him? No wonder he makes the rest of us leave when he works on one of us.”

“You *are* helping him, Buck. Don’t doubt that,” Ezra said.

Vin took in big gulps of air, sobbing as he exhaled and Buck grabbed his needle, ready to have this over and done with. His hands shook, still, but he managed to get his needle threaded. “Should have threaded it before this,” Buck said, angry at himself.

“Hurry,” Ezra said. “He’s getting weaker.”

Buck nodded. He concentrated on his work, stitching up the two long cuts on Vin’s thigh as quick as he could It wasn’t going to be neat; it was gonna be downright ugly, but that couldn’t be helped.

He put in the last loose stitch and sat back on his heels.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said to Ezra, trying to smile to show he was doing okay, that he’d make it through this.

“Mr. Tanner?” Ezra called. “Do you need to rest?”

“Git it over with, and then get the fuck away from me,” Vin snarled, his voice straining and breaking.

Buck met Ezra’s eyes again and shook his head. “Hold him, Ezra,” Buck said.

Ezra held Vin’s hips as best he could and Buck started stitching. The first stitch had Vin howling again and by the time Buck was finished, Vin’s howls had turned to sobs.

“Done,” Buck said. Oh god, he was shaking so bad. He grabbed Ezra’s flask and took a long swallow, emptying it. He held it out to Ezra and Ezra took it from him and raised it to his lips. “Sorry,” Buck said. “I finished it.”

“Git yer hands off me,” Vin said through his teeth and both Buck and Ezra backed off.

“What do we do now?” Buck asked Ezra.

“Now, we make them both comfortable, then we go for reinforcements.”

Buck nodded. “All right. All right. Sounds like a plan.” Good thing one of them was still able to think ahead because Buck sure wasn’t thinking about anything other than what he’d just done.

“We need to get Vin covered up, warmed up and drinking water,” Buck said. “When JD got shot, that’s what Nathan did.”

“How do you suggest we convince him of that?” Ezra asked.

Buck looked around the small jail, his eyes settling on Chris. “I have an idea,” Buck said. “Go find JD. We’re going to need his help.”

As soon as Ezra left, Buck went to Chris’ side. Lord, he looked near dead. “C’mon Larabee, don’t quit on me now,” Buck said to him.

Ezra and JD returned and from JD’s expression, Buck knew he heard everything. There wasn’t any time for that. “JD, Ez, either of you find a building that ain’t falling down? One with a second floor, maybe. One a single man could defend?”

“There’s an old hotel down at the end of the street,” JD said.

“Let’s get ‘em both over there. JD, me and Ez are going to get Josiah and Nathan. You need to stay here and you need a good position.”

“And we need to get them out of this god-forsaken jailhouse,” Ezra said softly.

“Is Vin gonna be all right?” JD asked, meeting Buck’s eyes.

Buck took his time answering. He wasn’t going to lie, but he wasn’t giving up, either. “I don’t know, JD. I hope so,” Buck said. “You two get Chris over there and I’ll follow with Vin.

They both nodded to him and he watched without moving as they managed to get Chris out the door. Buck took a deep breath before returning to Vin’s side. He squatted low, avoiding the half-dried blood puddle. “Vin?”

“Go away,” Vin said.

Buck cupped the back of Vin’s head in his hand. Got a rotten surprise at how cold he was and decided he needed to get Vin moving, and now.

“Vin, listen to me,” Buck said, gently turning Vin’s head so he could look at his face. Oh lord, he looked terrible. His face was bruised up but good and he was still crying.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Vin,” Buck said, a little harsher. “Chris ain’t doing so good. I need you to keep him warm while me and Ez go for Nathan and Josiah. The kid’s going to be busy keeping an eye on things, just in case the bad guys come back. I need you to take care of Chris. Can you do that?”

Vin scrubbed at his eyes and raised his head a little. Oh shit! His hands were still tied! “Vin, can you lift your hands?” Buck asked.

Buck didn’t wait for him to answer. He grabbed his own knife and cut the ropes. “Bet that feels better,” Buck said.

Vin didn’t answer.

“Vin, I’m gonna pick you up and carry you to where we moved Chris. That okay?” Buck asked.

“Cover me,” Vin whispered.

“Sure. I got an extra blanket in my saddlebags. I ain’t gonna lie to you, Vin, it’s gonna hurt like hell when I move you, but we gotta get out of this building.”

Vin gave a little nod and Buck moved in to pick him up. He used as soft a touch as he was able, but Vin still flinched and cursed, maybe even sobbed. Buck wanted to sob, too, but that wouldn’t get Vin moved or him onto the trail. Hell.

He made it to the old hotel pretty quick and didn’t have too much trouble making it up the stairs even though Vin was a damn-sight heavier than he looked.

Ezra met him at the top of the stairs and Buck followed him to a corner room.

“We’ve set up a pallet,” Ezra said, motioning to an inside wall. “This was the room with the best defensive position,” Ezra elaborated.

“Vin,” Buck said, “I’m going to lay you down with Chris. I need you to keep him warm and try to get some water into him if you can.”

Buck felt Vin nod against his chest, but he didn’t say anything. It was more than Buck expected to get out of him so he took it happily.

“JD, put some canteens with them,” Buck said. “Vin? You need to drink too, pard. How about every time you try to get Chris to take a drink, you take a swallow. Can you do that?”

Vin nodded, but didn’t look at Buck. He shifted a little so he curled around Chris, on his belly with his leg swung over Chris. Buck motioned to Ezra to follow him across the room.

“Good job, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “That was a magnificent bit of manipulation.”

“What do we do now?” Buck asked.

“Now, we bring in reinforcements. If we bring along extra horses, we can return in a day and a half.”

“Okay… okay…” Buck said. He was about to fall down himself, but they weren’t done yet. Hell, if all he had to do now was sit a horse and follow Ezra, he could do that. Hell, that was easy compared to everything else he’d done.

He took a last look at Chris and Vin, huddled under a blanket together. He just hoped they’d both still be breathing when he got back. Chris was the brother he’d never had and that damn ornery Texan had gotten under his skin. They had to make it!

If Buck Wilmington had anything to say about it, they would.

“Let’s go,” Buck said to Ezra.

*****

Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP.

That sound-- the slow, strong, steady heartbeat was the only thing in his world for now; if he let it go, he’d let go of his grip on the world and he just weren’t ready to do that yet. He held tighter to Chris’ body; his warm, solid body. Chris didn’t need to be kept warm; he was like a furnace and Vin sought his body heat as surely as he sought the sound of his beating heart.

Vin’s own heart raced in his chest, his own breathing was anything but deep and steady. His own body was ice cold, so cold that he weren’t sure if he was still in the desert or if he somehow ended up in the middle of a blizzard in the mountains. If he didn’t have the sound or the warmth to wrap himself around, he was sure he’d have no idea where he really was.

Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP.

He squirmed, making the pain flare up, but he needed to get as close to that sound as he could. He shifted his neck so his ear lay right over Chris’ heart. If he concentrated on that sound, he had no room to think about how bad he hurt. There was no room for worry or fear or anger. There was no room for the knowing that he’d lost so much blood that he was likely to die. If he just held on tight, that wouldn’t happen. If he just concentrated on that sound, one beat at a time, he’d make it over the threshold and back into the world.

He’d been taught long ago to fight pain, been taught how if you give your mind another focus, there was no room left for pain. It took concentration and the way his mind was mushier than a bowl of cooked oats, he wasn’t sure he could do it.

He knew his life hung in the balance, but as long as that heart continued it’s slow, strong, steady rhythm, he could hold onto it. Could us it as his anchor.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t barely breath and he couldn’t hold onto a thought long enough to even be sure what thought *was.* But he could hold onto that sound. Not only sound, but the vibration too. He could *feel* it better than he could feel the beating of his own heart.

He jist needed to hold on for a few hours, not let go, not fall asleep, not just drift off into a comfortable nothingness because he *knew* he’d never make it back to this world if he did that.

As long as that heart beat in his ear, he wasn’t ready to do that.

*****

“Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please, Please, please.”

A light touch on his neck and if he were able, he would have jumped a mile from the unexpected touch. Vin opened his eyes but they didn’t want to open more than a slit. He could barely see, but he knew that voice. JD. He almost lost hold of the sound he’d made the center of his world but grabbed on tight to it and quit trying to open his eyes. Quit trying to figure out what JD was up to.

“Vin?”

He didn’t have the strength to answer; he didn’t even try. And he couldn’t let go of his anchor. If he did, JD’s begging weren’t going to do any good.

“Vin, Buck said you have to drink.”

He tuned out JD’s voice. He didn’t want to move, couldn’t move, but the cool water splashing on his lips had him opening his mouth for more.

*****

“Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please, Please, please.”

Not again…

This time, he did move; he batted away the hand he knew was gonna check his pulse again.

“Vin, you have to drink!”

If he could gather enough of himself into one piece, he’d tell JD he knew that.

“I can’t do this, Vin,” JD whispered. “I can’t keep coming in here expecting you or Chris to be dead. One of these times, you will be and it will be just like my mom all over again.”

When the canteen came to his mouth again, he took a drink. JD’s words gave him something new to think about and he took it for a good sign that he *could* think.

He’d once been the one begging someone to *please* be alive, too. And like JD and his momma, Vin’s begging hadn’t done any good either.

“I ain’t gonna die, JD,” Vin said once he swallowed some water. He still couldn’t open his eyes.

“Vin!”

He’d used up all his reserves just speaking them few words. He didn’t think he could say anything else. Chris’ heart pounded a steady rhythm in his ear and he put his concentration back into listening to it. He hadn’t lied. He wasn’t going to die. And neither was Chris. There weren’t no way a heart that beat strong enough to hold Vin in this world would give out.

“Has Chris moved at all?”

He wasn’t about to think about Chris not moving; why couldn’t JD just leave him alone to get his strength back, to get a tighter grip on the world? He felt too close to dead to be worried about being fair to JD. Kid probably felt all alone in the world right now, another feeling Vin was too familiar with. Hell.

“No,” Vin finally answered.

“The guys should be here soon,” JD said, not showing any signs of getting up and leaving Vin alone, like he wanted to be.

He didn’t want to think about how close they’d all come to dying. Didn’t want to ponder on why *they* got so lucky when so many people who met up with Shore hadn’t. Lucky, right.

Seemed like his brain was working again and he wasn’t too happy about it, neither.

So much hate. His grandpa’d been right, both his grandpas. All hate did for a body was to spread more hate. Took him a long time to learn that lesson. And if he hadn’t had his family teaching it to him, he’d of never learned it. He might have ended up like them boys, spreading death and misery to everything they touched. Why had he been the lucky one? If he’d had his ma whispering revenge in his ear from the cradle, would he have been any different from them boys? Would he be the one leaving a trail of innocents dead in his path?

“Vin?”

He’d drifted off again, almost asleep this time. He didn’t feel like he’d be leaving this world if he let go anymore. He was plumb wore out, couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

More water splashed on his lips and he sucked it down best he could. Even that tiny movement, just turning his head so he could swallow, set his body on fire. Not moving was a good plan, and didn’t it just figure that Chris puzzled that out before he did.

“Vin?”

He was too tired to answer, too tired to give JD any meaning to what happened; he couldn’t even get it to lie straight in his own head.

“I have to check on things. Please don’t die while I‘m gone, all right?”

Please don’t die. He didn’t want to think about those words, coming out of his own mouth, so long ago. If he was going to go down the path them boys went down, it would have been then. But he had his brother and his grandpas, not long enough for his liking, but long enough to teach him right from wrong.

He finally managed a nod in JD‘s direction, he knew that much. Five minutes of thinking on things more complicated than the rhythm of a beating heart had him ready to sleep for a year. But just the knowing he could think, could get his mind to work, convinced him he weren’t lying to JD when he said he wasn’t going to die. And neither would Chris.

*****

“Buck! Ezra!”

“Courage, Mr. Wilmington. We may have reached the end of our journey.”

Buck managed to turn his head to look at Ezra; he didn’t have anything left to change his facial expression. He’d reached the last of his reserves. But he thought that three days before and he was still on the move, wasn’t he?

JD met them on the street, all relief and non-stop chatter.

“Let me take your horses. Did you find Josiah and Nathan? Are they coming? Chris hasn’t moved at all, hasn’t even taken a sip of water and Vin won’t move. He’s barely talking, but at least he’s talking, right?”

Buck slid out of his saddle and got his legs under him. Oh lordy, solid ground felt so good. Buck handed his reins over to JD and trudged past him to sit on the rotted steps. He didn’t much care if they fell in or not, it was somewhere to collapse.

Ezra handed JD his reins as well. He dropped onto the stairs next to Buck and cradled his head in his hands.

Buck looked up to find JD fidgeting from foot to foot. “Nathan and Josiah are behind us a ways with a wagon. An army patrol is meeting us here. They plan on going after the rest of Shore’s gang.”

“Are we going too?” JD asked, his head turning to look at each of them while he waited for an answer.

“I realize you’ve had no one to speak with for two days, JD,” Ezra said, surprising Buck with his tone of patience and understanding for JD. “But Buck and I have reached the end of our endurance. We are well relieved to hear that Chris and Vin are both still alive, but I do believe you will have to hold down the fort for a few more hours.”

JD visibly deflated and Buck knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep soon. The boy had done good and he needed them to be there for him now. And Buck wasn’t about to take a nap without seeing Chris. Or Vin. He’d been more tired, more worn out and more scared during the war. But he kept moving then, too.

“Let’s go see to Chris and Vin and then you can talk my ear off, all right, JD?” Buck asked as he stood.

“I’ll take care of your horses and meet you there Buck,” JD said after eyeing him a little more closely. “I’ve just been so worried and it’s been two days and there’s been no one here but me and every time I checked on Chris and Vin, I expected one of them to be dead. It’s just,” JD shut his mouth then and Buck wanted to give him a hug. He would have if he could move. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too, JD.” Buck said and settled for clapping a hand on JD’s shoulders and giving him a nod. JD led the horses away and Buck turned to Ezra, extending his arm downward to give him a hand up.

“Shall we see if we can manage to climb the stairs?” Ezra asked after he was on his feet.

“You want to bunk up there? I swear Ezra, I don’t know how either one of us is still moving.”

Ezra shrugged. “We do as we must, I suppose.”

Buck surprised himself by making it up the stairs without stumbling and promptly forgot his own misery once he got a look at his friends. Vin hadn’t moved from the position they’d left him in and Chris hadn’t moved period, it seemed.

“I thought once we got back everything would be all right,” Buck said as he and Ezra approached the sleeping and unconscious men.

“I as well,” Ezra said softly.

Buck dropped to the floor next to them while Ezra set up another pallet. There wasn’t much they could do for them and Nathan and Josiah weren’t far behind. Word was the army patrol had a doctor with them too, even though Josiah had wired the information that there were no survivors at the weigh station.

Buck just wanted to see with his own eyes that they were both still alive before he would let himself get some sleep.

The blanket draped over Vin had fallen to bare his back and Buck quickly tucked it up higher. He didn’t want to look at the damage. Maybe, the way he was feeling, he couldn’t look. He didn’t want to look at Chris’ face, either. His temple and the side of his head had turned black and purple and it was swelled up like an overripe watermelon ready to burst.

He reached out and moved Chris’ hair aside to get a better look and to feel for fever. Chris was cool and dry. Too dry. Had JD said he hadn’t woken up at all? Two days was almost too long without water to survive. He wouldn’t last much longer if he didn’t come to enough to swallow.

“C’mon, Chris,” Buck said as he sat staring. “I know you ain’t gonna quit on me. You never quit even one moment in your life. You don’t have it in you.”

Vin stirred and Buck pulled his hand back. He hadn’t meant to wake Vin. Buck’s mind kept going back to when JD got shot and he lived every moment of three days looking for signs JD would make it. He never left his side once Nathan patched him up. He’d watched him sleep twenty-three and a half hours out of twenty-four for three days straight and Buck’s fretting nearly drove Nathan mad. Sleep. Right, Buck told himself. Sleep was the only medicine besides food and water that could heal a broken body. That would work for Vin, but Chris wasn’t asleep.

Vin settled again and Buck reached out to feel Chris’ pulse. To check one last time before he had to get some rest. His hand met wetness on Chris’ collar and he followed it down his chest to Vin’s face. Boy oh boy, if his friends would just be okay, he could have some fun with them.

“You been drooling all over Chris, Vin,” Buck said as he rearranged the blankets.

“Uhm.”

Buck near on jumped three feet, having JD sneak up on him like that.

“I’ve been trying to get them both to drink like you said and I guess I spilled a lot of it.”

JD was near tears and Buck stood up and pulled him into a hug. JD fought him for a moment, but Buck held on tight. “You done good, JD. Real good. From beginning to end, you done good.” Buck rubbed JD’s back as he spoke and JD relaxed into it.

“I’ve been real worried, Buck,” JD said, his voice breaking just a little. “I kept expecting them to die or for the rest of the gang to come back and I had no idea what was happening with you and Ezra… I…” JD’s words broke off and Buck pulled him in a little tighter.

“I know, kid, I know.”

“Ahem.”

Buck gave JD’s back one more rub before he released him and looked at Ezra. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“I would like to wash off some of this grime I am covered in before I pass out for an indeterminate time. Mr. Dunne, have you found any standing water during your patrols?”

“There’s a pump that still works down at the other end of the street.” JD shrugged. “It’s no good for drinking, but it’s water. It’s in front of the little building on the end.”

“Perfect. Though perfection is currently being defeated by stairs.” Ezra sighed as he left the room, muttering some more about stairs.

Buck met JD’s suspiciously shining eyes and gave him a little smile. “I’m proud of you, JD,” Buck said again.

JD wiped at his eyes before managing a smile for Buck. “I’m just glad you’re back. And I’m glad they’re,” he gestured at Chris and Vin, “still alive. I’d be grateful for Ezra too, but I didn’t even recognize him when you two rode up. He looks like a miner, Buck!”

Buck managed a little smile for JD then and clapped him on the back. “And a few weeks from now when we’re looking back on this time, we’re gonna remind him of that, ain’t we, JD?”

JD went quiet again, glancing from Chris to Vin, back to Buck. “You really think they’re going to make it?”

“Sure do, JD,” Buck said. Saying the words out loud to JD almost even made Buck believe them himself. “Chris is too god-damned stubborn to die and you ever known Vin not to follow Chris’ lead?”

“Well, yeah, if he thinks Chris is wrong.”

“Not this time, JD. Tell Ezra thanks for setting up my bedroll,” Buck said with a wink. “And if he wakes me up, I’ll shoot him.”

“You’ll shoot him?”

“Yup. With Chris refusing to wake his lazy ass up, someone’s got to keep Ezra in line, right?” Buck got comfortable on the pallet before he looked up at JD and winked at him.

“You are so full of shit, Buck,” JD said, shaking his head, but with a little smile on his face.

Buck’s last thought was that once Josiah and Nathan made it there, everything had to be all right. When the seven of them rode together, there wasn’t any stopping them.

*****

He knew he was dreaming-- he didn’t always know, but this time he did. Cause he weren’t a little fellow in his dream. When the things he dreamed about really happened, he was a little fellow. The war whoops, the arrows flying, the gunshots. Women screaming, babies crying. His mamma screaming for his pa. The injuns were overtaking the fort and little Buck Wilmington tried to be brave for his ma, but he sobbed just as loudly as the other little‘uns. A fierce warrior’s face flashed by the window, setting all the women inside screaming again. He was only six, but he wasn’t a baby and he tried to be brave.

An arm reached for him through the window and he tried to escape…

“Buck… Buck… settle now. It’s only me. I need you to answer a question or two and then you can go on back to sleep.”

“Nathan?” Buck mumbled. He bolted upright, knocking into Ezra who lay sleeping beside him. “What time is it? Hell, what day is it?” As he wiped his face, his hands shook. He hadn’t had so vivid a dream of that day since before the war. Most of his rare nightmares now went back to the war and not the raid he‘d lost his pa in. If he *ever* got his hands on those little murdering bastards, he was going to kill them.

“You with me, Buck?” Nathan asked and Buck shook off the last of his dreams and sat up straighter.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m awake, Nathan.”

“Sorry to have to wake you, Buck, but I need to ask you some questions about them.” Nathan gestured to the corner where Chris and Vin lay and Buck scrubbed at his eyes some more.

“I ain’t gonna be much help, Nate,” Buck said, shaking his head. “I kind of stumbled through. I hope I didn’t make it worse.”

“You done just fine, Buck.” Nathan said as he handed Buck a canteen. “I wish I’d have been here.”

“If you and Josiah were with us, Shore would have the gold and we’d be dead. I like the way it turned out better.” Buck sighed and climbed to his feet. “I just ain’t sure Chris and Vin would agree.”

“You don’t have to get up,” Nathan said. “You and Ezra and JD are plumb wore-out. The Army ain’t more than a few hours behind me and Josiah, we can hold things together until they get here.”

“I don’t want to wake them,” Buck said as he got his legs working and stumbled away from Ezra, and sleeping just beyond him, JD. Buck leaned against the wall near the door and let loose a big yawn. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Did you see all what happened to Vin?”

“Can’t you see what they *did* to him, Nathan?”

“Whoa, easy there. How bad did he bleed and for round about how long? I don’t like the looks of his color and I been having the damnedest time trying to get him warmed up.”

Buck thought about it some, but his memories weren’t all that clear. *Some* of them were all too clear, but he wasn’t worrying about the time in the middle of it all. “I don’t know, Nate. I wish I could tell you.”

“It’s all right. It won’t change how much blood he lost if I know or not. I was just trying to get a feelin for how much.”

“Can you help him?” Buck knew he sounded like he was begging, but he’d been pinning his hopes on Nathan getting here and making things better. He’d damn on near made a miracle happen when JD got shot. Buck laid his hope on him doing it again.

“I don’t know, Buck. If he don’t start to show signs of holding heat in soon or if he don’t come around some, there ain’t much I can do for him.”

Buck wouldn’t think about that. Nope, he wouldn’t. “What about Chris?”

“I’m goin to try getting some water into him, but I need you to put Vin between you and Ezra to keep him warm while I work on Chris.”

“I hate the thought of moving him, Nate,” Buck said with a sigh.

“I know. I want to get a better look at his wounds too, but he won’t let me. No way I‘m gonna force him.”

“It’s bad,” Buck said, meeting Nathan’s eyes.

“You cleaned out the cuts real good?”

“I poured whiskey on ’em and soaked the needle and thread before I stitched him.”

“Good. Good,” Nathan said, nodding. “You done real good, Buck. I knew you was paying attention to me.” Nathan reached out and put a hand on Buck’s shoulder and Buck didn’t shrug it off. JD wasn’t the only one needed to hear that he done good, Buck realized. Dammit, those weren’t tears threatening to fall. Buck Wilmington did not cry. Well, not most times.

“Hey now,” Nathan said, “as soon as we get Vin moved, you go on back to sleep. Me an’ Josiah got everything covered for now.”

“You’ll wake me if there’s any change in Chris?”

“Course I will, Buck. You just get some rest and let me and Josiah take some of the burden for now. We got seven strong shoulders to spread it between, so you let us take our turn, you hear?”

Buck nodded to Nathan and the tears threatening his dignity cleared. Friends to share the burden was about all Buck needed out of the world right now. In better times, he needed people to share the fun, but right now, spreading the load sounded like heaven.

*****

He wasn’t troubled by bad dreams this time, Buck realized as soon as he opened his eyes. Someone was looking at him, that’s what woke him.

He met Vin’s half open eyes and nearly whooped with joy. Light seeped into the room; last time he woke, it was still dark. Another day passed and Vin was still alive.

“Chris?” Vin whispered.

“Nathan’s with him, Vin,” Buck said, hoping it was still true. “We needed to keep you warm so you got yourself two handsome bed warmers. Well, one handsome and one that cleans up nice, at least.” He nodded to where Ezra lay, on Vin’s other side, but Vin didn’t move. “Ezra’s the one that cleans up nice,” Buck said with a little grin.

Vin shifted and grimaced, pain drawing his features up and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. “I’m tired, Buck,” Vin whispered.

“Then go on back to sleep.”

“You’ll let me know if there’s any change in Chris?”

“Course I will, pard. You just rest up.”

Vin slowly closed his eyes and Buck gave him a moment for him to truly fall asleep before he tried to move. Ezra still slept on the other side of Vin, sharing a blanket with him and JD was on his back, arm flung over his face, just beyond Ezra. Buck eased out from under the blankets, making sure to tuck them tight around Vin.

Whoa-- getting upright again wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. Damn. He stumbled over to the corner where Chris was laid out. He looked too much like he was laid out for a funeral and Buck hesitated before approaching Nathan and the stranger who sat talking a few feet from his side.

It took a minute, but Nathan noticed he was there and nodded to him before turning back to the man he talked to.

Buck stretched some more and thought about interrupting, but he hovered instead.

“It is an option,” the stranger dressed in a ratty army uniform said as he shrugged his shoulders. “The longer he remains unconscious, the worse his prognosis.”

Buck moved closer and the stench of sweated-out liquor hit him hard.

“Who’re you?” Buck asked. The man turned around to look at him but didn’t answer.

“This here is Doc Perkins, from Fort Seldon, Buck,” Nathan said. “We’s just talking about Chris and what to do for him. I got some water into him a few hours ago.”

“He comin to?” Buck asked.

Nathan shook his head. “Not really. But he’s swallowin and respondin to light.”

“He’s swelling inside his head and if the swelling doesn’t ease up on its own, he will die,” the doctor said, studying Buck a little more closely.

“So what are you going to do for him?” Buck asked.

“I was explaining to Nathan how I would like to drain some of the accumulated fluid from inside his skull.”

“You what!” Buck nearly yelled. Sounds of movement from across the room had him lowering his voice and getting down on the floor. “You want to make another hole in his head?” Buck shook his head. No way was he letting some drunk drill a hole in Chris’ head. What the hell was a doctor doing out at a frontier outpost anyway. “No.”

The doctor shrugged and got on his feet. “He’s your friend and I’m looking at him as a courtesy. Nathan says you and he were both in the Union army.”

Buck nodded. “You too?” he asked.

“Shiloh, Antietam, too many others.”

“Can you help him without drilling a hole in his head?” Buck asked.

The doctor gathered his things and started walking toward the doorway. “Let me know what you decide. We’re riding out in a few hours.”

Buck watched him leave. Shit, he didn’t know what to do. He sure as hell wasn’t any kind of healer, but drilling a hole in a man’s skull just didn’t sit right.

“He already did help him, Buck. He drained the abscess and the pooled blood and got him to come around some by rubbing on his breastbone. Even though he’s a drunk, he knew what to do. I‘d imagine that man has seen more hurt done to a body than any man ought.”

“Hell, Nate, what do you think?”

“I just don’t know, Buck.”

“Is he gonna take a look at Vin?” Buck asked.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Nathan said. “After what happened here and Vin not even letting me look at him. And him bein wanted an all,” Nathan’s words trailed off. “Ain’t much to be done for him now but seein he eats, drinks and rests.”

Buck thought on it a minute before shaking his head. “I don’t know what to think, Nathan.”

“Josiah’s got the coffee on to boil down below. He’s cooking up some breakfast too. I figure we ought to see about getting something inta Vin’s belly. He ain’t gonna heal up at all without something to eat. Why don’t you go put some food in your own belly and then bring up some of the broth Josiah’s making.”

Buck hesitated and Nathan reached out and put his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Go on, I’ll see to Chris.”

Buck nodded and with one last check on his still sleeping friends, he headed out. Maybe he could get a better feel for that so-called doctor.

*****

“I can’t believe he actually wanted to make a hole in Chris’ skull,” Buck said, waving his arms for emphasis. “Hell, the man was a quack and a drunk!”

Ezra reached out and plucked his flask from Buck’s outstretched arms. He’d refilled it from the bottle of rye they’d gotten from the soldiers and bitched about the quality of the drink while he did it.

Buck gave him a dirty look, but didn’t try to take the flask again. “All I’m sayin,” Buck started up again, “is that we don’t know anything about him. He smelled like a still and did you get a look at him out in the daylight?”

“He looked like he was on his own deathbed, Mr. Wilmington,” Ezra said as he took a sip from his flask. “In the interest of our own self-preservation, I am pleased you told him no.”

“Yeah,” JD said, “I don’t think Chris would be happy if we let that quack do that.”

“Y’all need to stop callin Doc Perkins a quack,” Nathan said quietly. “He treated Chris real well and he didn’t have to.”

“Nathan, he smelled worse than Chris after a two-week bender!”

“Man’s got his reasons, Buck. You was in the war, you ought to know that.” Nathan’s temper flared then and Buck took a second to study him.

“You saw your share during the war too, Nathan.”

“Yeah, I sure did and I saw more than one doctor lose his mind in them battlefield hospitals. They’d be covered in gore, surrounded by dead and dying, big ole piles of amputated arms and legs and the dead stacked around ‘em like cordwood. I don’t know if the worst part was the screaming or the smell. If he wants to drink away the memories, it ain’t my place to be judging him. Or yours.”

Buck remembered Vin’s screams, remembered the sounds of the dying men on the battlefields and grabbed the flask from Ezra to take another drink. Maybe Nathan had a point. There was still no way he’d let that drunk make a hole in Chris’ skull.

“You think they’ll catch them?” JD asked and it took Buck a moment to figure out just what he was talking about.

The eight-man army patrol went out hunting four hours before, leaving the seven to take care of their wounded and head home. Which they would do in the morning. Josiah and Nathan were taking Chris and Vin in the wagon and JD, Ezra and Buck were taking the shorter route the wagon couldn’t go. They’d been gone too long already and the journey home with the wounded promised to be long and slow going.

“I hope they catch them, JD,” Buck said. “I hope they catch them and string them up. Hell, I wanted to go with them.”

“But we have a job to do,” Ezra said with a shrug. “We have left our fair town unprotected for far too long.”

“I still want to be the one to put down those mad dogs,” Buck said, getting worked up again and not caring that he was.

“They’re only kids,” JD said quietly.

“They stopped bein kids when they started killing folks, JD,” Buck nearly yelled.

“They aren’t even the ones who hurt Chris and Vin, Buck. Heck, they saved our lives!”

“No, JD, they killed their pa, who needed killing, but they didn’t do it to save our lives. They’re gonna keep on killin till someone puts a stop to it!”

“Y’all want to keep your voices down,” Nathan whispered harshly.

“The lieutenant informed me they were focusing on the adult members of the gang. With only an eight-man patrol, they had to make a choice and he seemed to believe it was the right one.”

“The little one is probably dead already,” JD said. “He was shot in the shoulder, Nate, and he was pretty small. I’d guess he weighed about seventy-five pounds. Do you think he’ll make it?”

“I got no idea, JD. There’s too many things could go wrong or right. Ain’t no telling.”

JD held his hand out for the flask from Buck. Buck didn’t hesitate to turn it over. Hell, if the kid wanted a drink, Buck would give it to him. There wasn’t enough there for any of them to get drunk and they wouldn’t anyway. Not with things needing doing and the remnants of the gang still on the loose.

JD swallowed and made a face and Buck took the flask away. Kid was used to drinking milk, not rye.

“Why does someone do the things Shore did?” JD asked, looking around at his older companions.

When no one else answered, Buck did. “Because he was an evil man, JD.”

“That’s not a reason, Buck,” JD said, his frustration clear.

“Of course it’s a reason. Some people are plain no good.”

“But with all the robbing he did, he sure didn’t live comfortable. I don’t understand why he’d do it.”

“It’s not about money, JD,” Josiah said. He looked like he was about to say more. He’d been quiet since they all settled in to plan their next move. When Josiah opened his mouth again, Buck decided he needed a little breathing room. He didn’t especially feel like listening to Josiah’s cryptic ramblings.

Buck gave Ezra his flask and went to sit with Chris. Maybe talking to him would help him find his way back. Buck would talk his ear off until Chris woke up and threatened to shoot him for talking too much, if that’s what it would take.

But he couldn’t block out the conversation from a few feet away. He kept his eyes on Chris, searching for any signs of movement.

“It’s about power, JD,” Buck heard Josiah say.

“Shore didn’t have any power. Well not any that mattered,” JD said.

“He had the ultimate power; he decided who lived and died and he kept his woman and boys like dogs. Once a man like Shore gets a taste of that kind of power, it’s hard for him to turn back. He usually goes looking for more.”

Staring at Chris, Buck wanted to interrupt, but he was just too dang tired to be talking deep talk with Josiah. It didn’t matter *why* Shore did what he did and it sure as hell didn’t matter why his boys acted the way they did. What mattered is what they done and what they were sure to do in the future. If just a little feller like Bobby could kill and keep trophies like he done, no telling what he’d get up to when he was bigger.

Didn’t matter his ma’s people were slaughtered; they’d done plenty of slaughterin’ themselves. Didn’t matter his pa beat on him; plenty of people’s pas used a heavy hand. It sure as hell didn’t matter that the boy might have had some wrongs done to him; what mattered was if he weren’t stopped, Shore’s actions would seem like nothing compared to his son’s. Renegades with a grudge on the loose weren’t something to take lightly.

The others had gone quiet and Buck shifted his attention from Chris’ swollen and discolored face to glance at them. They sat silently staring at each other and Buck bit back what he was about to say to them.

“JD,” Nathan said, “Back on the plantation, we had an overseer who liked to use his whip whenever the mood took him. A body didn’t have to do anything wrong to taste the tip o’that thing, just had to catch him in the wrong mood.”

Buck shifted so he could see Nathan’s face a little better. Nathan hadn’t talked much about being a slave and Buck, truthfully, didn’t think on it much. Not since Nathan’s father died, and not even much before then, had he said a word about the life he left behind.

“Never knew when that thing was gonna come whippin through the air at you and open ya up but good when it landed. Made for a jumpy bunch a people, I can tell you that much. Livin like that wears on a person until they’re plumb wore out. Not many fought back, but some did. Some ran. Most lived like rabbits, ready to bolt from any kind of movement near ‘em. If I laid my eyes on that man today, I don’t know what I’d do. I‘d like to think I wouldn‘t carve ‘em up but good, but I just don‘t know.”

“Can’t the law make him pay, Nathan?” JD asked.

“Law puts him in the right, JD,” Nathan said with a shrug.

“The world is full of injustice, JD,” Josiah said. “But we can try to make our little corner of it a better place, right?”

“I’m not as dumb as you all seem to think,” JD huffed. “Where I’m from, people starve in the streets and freeze to death in the winter while families like my ma worked for fed their dogs better than the help’s babies got fed. I’m only trying to figure out why Shore’s kids killed him.”

Buck couldn’t take the conversation any longer. “They did it because a beat dog will eventually attack its master. And they’re gonna keep killin till someone stops them. I don’t care why they’re doing it or that they’re younger than you. I care that some family is gonna run inta them and meet their end in a way too horrible to even think on.”

“Vin said their ma’s people got killed like that,” JD said.

“They were Vin’s people too, JD, and you don’t see Vin acting like that!”

“But we didn’t know what Vin was like before we met him, Buck,” JD said softly. “I’m not saying Vin was like them…” JD’s words trailed off and Buck didn’t feel like saying anything else either.

They could talk until the next century turned and it still wouldn’t change anything.

“I haven’t heard such a philosophical conversation since I left the salons of New Orleans,” Ezra said as he stood. “As scintillating as it has been, we won’t be solving the world’s problems sitting here in this dilapidated structure.”

“I think someone is looking forward to his featherbed,” Josiah said as he too stood to go.

“I think I will be grateful for a satisfyingly long soak in a hot bath. After that,” Ezra shrugged.

“I’m gonna sit with them a while longer,” Buck said to the rest of them. “JD would ya mind getting my gear ready?” He didn’t want to admit he might never see Chris alive again, but JD was perceptive enough to understand what he was saying without him having to come out and say it.

JD nodded to him and looked like he wanted to say something else but he followed Ezra out without another word.

Buck settled back in next to Chris and started talking to him. Nonsense mostly, things they’d done and seen, people they knew. All happy stories. Buck had about enough talk of the wrongs in the world. Was bad enough they were there. But they could be dealt with when they needed to be; they didn’t need to be endlessly discussed and fretted over. There was too much fun to be had and too much life to live while you were lucky enough to get it. A man wasted his time thinking on all the bad out there when there was more than enough good to go around.

He picked up Chris’ hand and rubbed it between his hands and kept up his talking. Chris had told him to shut up enough times in the past, maybe he’d do it again.

“Y’all really done all them things?” A soft voice rasped out.

“Hey, Vin,” Buck said. “I didn’t mean to wake you but we gotta get Chris back with us.”

“Ya ain’t botherin me, Buck,” Vin said. “I like hearin your stories. Sounds like you and Chris had a lot of fun.”

Buck nodded. They sure did. And if they didn’t have as much fun anymore… well… that’s the way things turned out. They still had each other to turn to, no matter what. A lot of years and trails behind them saw to that. And no matter how much they may have wanted to kill each other at times over the years, he was still ready to drag Chris kicking and screaming back into the world.

“How are you feeling, Vin?” Buck asked as he dropped Chris’ hand.

“Still breathing,” Vin said softly.

“You keep that up and before you know it, you’ll be good as new.”

“Ain’t been good as new in too many years, Buck,” Vin said. “If I’m not around to see Chris come to, kin ya tell him…” Vin went silent and it was just as well.

“You quittin on me?” Buck asked.

“I’m so tired, Buck,” Vin said, echoing his words from earlier in the day.

“So rest,” Buck said. “When ole black britches here comes to, he’ll be needin your help and I don’t see him takin help from anyone but me and you. And you know there’s not enough of me to go around to keep him and the ladies satisfied.”

Vin huffed out a breath that would have been a laugh if he was stronger.

“JD, Ez, and me are headed back in a few hours. Nathan and Josiah are taking you and Chris home. You gonna let them help you?”

Vin closed his eyes and went silent.

The long trail home was startin to look mighty good to Buck and the guilt for that thought washed over him as quick as the thought did.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Vin,” Buck said.

“Ain’t you they had up there on that table, Buck.”

“And you didn’t do anything to be ashamed about. Even if they had done what they threatened to do, you still wouldn’t have anything to be shamed for, Vin. That would have been all theirs.”

Vin didn’t say anything else and Buck knew he reached the end of his rope-- ya can‘t help someone who refuses your help. Forcing the issue would make him run or fight-- he had Chris to thank for that lesson. He took one last look at Vin before getting up to leave. He was about to open his mouth and tell Vin just what he thought of his foolishness-- that sometimes a man needed to accept a helping hand-- even if it made him uncomfortable. World was too tough to go it alone-- people were like wolves-- they needed a pack to live a good life and not go running around alone, too stubborn or scared to…

“Buck!”

Vin’s moving for the first time in days and the urgency in his voice stopped Buck in his tracks.

“He moved,” Vin rasped out. “I know he did!”

“It’s about time,” Buck said. “I was almost getting worried.”

“Almost?” Vin asked, the little spark that made Vin Vin and had been missing peeking through just a tad.

“Yeah, almost,” Buck said, feigning indifference. “Now just what part of him did he move?”

“His head. He turned it a little, Buck!” Vin tried to sit up, but didn’t make it very far before falling back to the pallet.

“Easy, junior, you ain’t goin anywhere for quite awhile yet.”

Vin’s voice grew more faint, but he was still awake, and that was a major improvement.

“Let me go get Nathan and you keep still, all right?” Buck asked.

Vin nodded and Buck hurried off to find Nathan. A little hope went a long way and that’s what he’d just gotten back-- and he hadn’t even realized he’d almost lost it.

Chris moved, Vin was talking and Buck had some hope. It might just turn out to be a fine day.

*****

“Head hurtin’?”

Chris shook his head. It wasn’t hurting, or not as much as it had been.

“Wrist?” Nathan asked.

Chris shook his head again; there was almost no pain from his wrist. It was healing well.

“Weakness? Blurry vision?”

Chris nodded. His vision was blurry some, but it wasn’t too bad.

“Any more memories come back overnight?”

Chris shook his head. He couldn’t remember much of what happened after the rest break at the spring. He remembered some, getting flashes when he least expected it, but they were too disturbing to spend much time thinking about.

Nathan leaned back in his chair and studied Chris. “If you can walk onta the balcony without getting dizzy, I’d say it’s safe for you to be up and around now.”

There was a task. He’d been fighting dizziness and sickness since he’d come to, a week past now. He had no memory of their capture, no memory of the fight, little memory of the return home, no memory what happened to Vin. He almost didn’t believe Vin was alive. He almost believed the others were lying to him when they told him Vin was healing up out at Chris’ shack.

It had to be bad for him not to visit him in town even once. As soon as he was able, he’d make the ride out there and check for himself. He knew Buck couldn’t lie to his face, JD either. But they could stretch the truth a little to spare his feelings. They ought to know by now that he didn’t need his feelings spared. He needed the truth-- the complete and unabridged truth. Not some rosy outlook that probably wouldn’t come true.

Nathan sat staring at him while he woolgathered. He leaned forward to get some momentum and get up off the edge of the bed, but as soon as he did, the world spun a little, along with his stomach.

“Easy,” Nathan said, laying a steadying hand on his shoulder. “No hurry, Chris. You took a bullet to the head, it’s goin to take time to get over it and that’s all there is to it.”

He fought down the bile in his throat and another flash of memory seared into his skull. He gripped his head between his hands; he had no other way to fight the pain. He didn’t want any laudanum; he didn’t want any potions. He wanted his mind to be as clear as it could be.

“Maybe you should wait another day,” Nathan said, leaning forward in his chair facing the bed. “Ain’t no hurry. Town’s bein looked after and JD’s been riding out to see to Vin twice a day. You take the time you need to get well, Chris.”

He wanted to go out and see Vin with his own eyes. He knew something was very wrong but he didn’t voice his fears.

“You ain’t up to that ride just yet, so keep that thought right where it is,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “Vin ain’t up to sitting a horse but he’s healing up good. I saw him two days ago and he’s fine.”

If Vin hadn’t been there to see him, then Vin wasn’t fine. There was no getting around that fact, no matter how many times people told him otherwise.

“You gonna say anything at all?” Nathan asked him.

Instead of answering, Chris tried to get to his feet again. He’d been flat on his back long enough. Sitting up for a few hours a day didn’t count. If he couldn’t do for himself, then he was flat on his back.

“Take it slow,” Nathan said, hovering, but not lending a hand.

Last time Nathan tried to lend him a hand getting up, he’d snarled at him. He didn’t blame Nathan for keeping his distance. The only other time Chris had been hurt bad enough to need doctoring, he’d been surly and moody. But it wasn’t the needing doctoring that had him that way. Vin had come to sit with him whenever he wasn’t out tracking Ella, even when it was clear Chris didn’t want him there.

He took his time and made it to his feet without help. It might have been a mistake, standing up, the way the hammering in his head started back up, almost as bad as it was when he first came around.

He had vague memories of a long wagon ride. A ride that the only part he could remember was Vin watching him whenever he managed a few minutes of lucidity. Vin was pale, shaky, not talking. That suited Chris fine. He couldn’t rub two thoughts together during that ride. He barely remembered it except for Vin sharing the wagon bed with him. He hurt too much to remember any other part of the trip.

The past week, laid out flat on his back in Nathan’s rooms, each day he was able to process a little more, was able to make his mind work enough to remember one waking to the next. Now, except for the missing memories, his mind worked just fine. If his balance was off and his arm broken; if his stomach rebelled whenever he put more than water or broth into it… well, he wasn’t going to complain about it. He’d gotten a look at his face in the mirror. He had Buck and Ezra and JD telling him all about how he got shot in the head and acting like he had a story to tell now that he’d lived through it. Looking into the mirror, feeling his skull for damage, he knew they were right. He was damn lucky to be alive. He’d feel luckier and less unsettled if he could only remember.

Maybe he was better off not remembering. Maybe he was better off not knowing exactly what happened. If he were a different man, maybe he would be better off. But he wasn’t. He didn’t want to think about all that time lost, all what might have happened while he was carted around like some piece of furniture. It was all a blank page and that just didn’t sit well. He tried to picture what he must have looked like when he was out. It didn’t help his headache any.

“You’re doing real well, Chris,” Nathan encouraged him. “I never would have believed you’d be moving under your own steam so fast. Wasn’t a week ago you couldn’t even take a sip of water on your own.”

He grit his teeth against the now pounding headache. He needed to get to that balcony, he needed to get somewhere under his own power and he needed to do for himself. He needed a lot of things, but it seemed like they were all just beyond his reach.

He ignored the pain, or tried to, and stumbled toward the door. He could feel Nathan hovering just behind him, ready to catch if he fell on his ass. Surprisingly, it didn’t annoy him. He made it to the door, was just reaching for it when it flew open and he did fall backward. Nathan caught him before he could land on his broken arm. Chris shrugged off Nathan’s help as soon as he caught his balance.

“You’re up!” Buck said too loud, setting Chris’ head to pounding again.

“This ain’t a saloon, Buck,” Nathan said as he let go of Chris.

“Sorry,” Buck said, obviously not sorry. He gave a little shrug and shut the door behind him. “Good to see you up, Chris.”

Chris nodded to him and headed for the door again. It was no surprise Buck made his life harder by shutting it. He could always count on Buck.

“Hey, Chris, where ya goin?” Buck asked, still too loud.

“I told Chris if he could make it outside under his own steam that it would be safe for him to leave,” Nathan said. “I surely didn’t expect him to try it the first time he got his feet under him.”

“Or before he put some pants on. Chris, your head must still be shook up if you didn’t know you’re not wearing your pants.”

He knew he didn’t have pants on. He was only going to the door. And even that prospect didn’t look so good at the moment.

“You need something, Buck?” Nathan asked.

“Nope, I just came up to see how Chris’ doin,” Buck said as he plopped down onto the bed.

Chris ignored him and reached for the door. If he could get it open on his own, he’d feel a hell of a lot better about his prospects.

“How about you goin and getting Chris some breakfast?”

“Sure, JD’s going to head out to bring Vin some food. You got anything to tell him, Chris?”

He used his left hand on the door handle, remembering this time that his right arm was broken. First time he reached for a drink without thinking, he got a nasty surprise. He wished he could remember how he broke it.

“Chris?” Buck asked again.

He opened the door, stared out into what he could see of the street and shut it again. He managed to turn around and lean back against the door. If his head would only stop pounding, he could make it out the door. The steps were another matter.

“He ain’t deaf, is he Nate?” Buck asked, tilting his head and staring at Chris.

Nathan didn’t answer and neither did Chris.

“Here, stud, take your bed back. You look like you need it,” Buck said as he stood. “I’ll tell JD to tell Vin you’re on your feet.”

“He all right?” Chris asked.

Buck smiled big before answering. “He’s hurtin, but he’s healin. I doctored him good, ask Nate.”

Chris steadied himself against the door and raised an eyebrow to Nathan. *Buck* doctored Vin?

“You sure did, Buck,” Nathan said. “Now git, Chris needs to set himself back down and get some rest.

A little shuffling had Buck out the door and Chris seated back on the bed. “Nathan?” Chris asked.

The door opening had Chris biting back his question.

Buck stuck his head back in the door and flashed a big grin. “Breakfast coming right up!”

Chris waited for the door to close again before asking, “He really do the doctoring?”

“He sure did. Did a good job too. Him and Ezra and JD all done good.”

While he was doing his log impersonation, Chris almost retorted. Good thing he wasn’t really in the mood to say much.

“Chris?”

Chris raised his head from his hands to see what Nathan wanted.

“Vin is doin just fine. He lost a lot of blood and he ain’t gonna be back to his normal self for quite a time, but he’ll be all right with some time to heal.”

Then why isn’t he here in town? That was Chris’ real question but he was too tired for more discussion. He’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

*****

“You sure now?” Nathan asked Chris for the fifth time. He didn’t answer, like he hadn’t for the past three.

“You ready, JD?” Chris asked.

JD nodded to him and Chris levered himself up off the bed. They all must have known he didn’t want any help because he didn’t have hands thrust his way like they’d been doing. He was getting more flashes of memory now, but they didn’t make any kind of sense. The trip with JD out to see Vin would answer the most important questions.

“You were none too steady on your feet yesterday, Chris. You ain’t been out of bed but one day,” Nathan said but Chris didn’t care.

He needed to be up, to be doing something other than clutching his head against blinding headaches. Seeing Vin might go a ways toward quieting the pounding. He let Nathan help him down the stairs. Just because he was stubborn didn’t mean he was always foolish.

It didn’t take long to settle into the buggy JD borrowed. He didn’t look around town, didn’t worry about who might be watching him. He spent the entire ride alternating between fighting back a killer headache and making his head hurt worse by trying to remember. By the time they crested the last hill leading to his place, he was so worn out, he didn’t think he’d be able to get out of the buggy.

“Where’s Vin?” Chris asked, squinting into the sunlight, trying to see any sign of Vin.

“Probably in bed. He doesn’t get out of it much.”

“You left him here alone like that?” Chris snarled out.

“We didn’t want to, Chris. I swear we didn’t. He was going to go to the hills if we didn’t leave him alone here.” JD’s silence matched Chris’ until it became uncomfortable. “He’s got at least two guns in bed with him,” JD finally said.

But he’s got no one watching his back. Chris climbed out of the buggy and at least his balance was getting better. He was sick of being so weak, so helpless. Another memory flashed and he grabbed his head again. It fucking *hurt* whenever he tried forcing the memories.

“Hello the house,” Chris called out in case Vin hadn’t woken up when they arrived. He didn’t particularly want to get shot by one of Vin’s bedmates. “Chris coming in.”

“You want me to stay?” JD asked.

Chris shook his head and headed toward the house.

“Wait,” JD called. “You forgot the food.” JD scrambled over to Chris carrying the large basket and Chris took it from him, almost dropping it because it was too heavy. Or he was too weak.

He fucking hated this and for a brief second, he hated JD. But it passed at about the same time he realized he would hate anyone near him for a moment.

“I’m headed to Nettie’s and I’ll stop by on my way back to town, all right?” JD asked.

Chris nodded to him and waited for him to climb back into the buggy and drive away before he attempted the stairs.

“Vin?” Chris called out. No answer, but he hadn’t expected one. He still wasn’t convinced Vin was actually alive. But JD wouldn’t have kept the ruse going quite this far.

The cabin was cool and dark, a nice change from outside. He dropped the basket onto the nearest table and called out, “Vin,” again.

“Here,” Vin’s soft voice called back and finally Chris really believed Vin was still alive.

It took him a minute to get his head on right and slowly move toward the back room, afraid of what he’d see. While he didn’t remember anything concrete, couldn’t call up any details, he knew whatever happened was bad. He couldn’t shake the unease that seemed to have become part of him.

The sleeping alcove was even darker than the rest of the shack and he was grateful for it; the light still bothered his eyes. He tossed his hat into the corner before stumbling toward the bed.

Vin shifted a little so Chris could sit on the edge. He must have looked worse than he thought, the way Vin studied him.

“You all right?” Chris asked, the same time Vin asked, “You okay?”

They stared at each other a moment longer before Chris reached out to touch, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Missed you in town,” Chris said.

“Nothin anyone can do for me, Chris. Figured I’d jist be in Nathan’s way.” Vin said.

He was lying, Chris knew. And he wasn’t very good at it. Chris wanted to ask what the hell happened, but he didn’t want Vin lying to him again. And the way he was looking at that blanket instead of Chris, he knew he would.

“There room in there for me?” Chris asked

Vin edged toward the wall slowly and Chris climbed in next to him and settled down to sleep. One little buggy ride had him ready to pass out.

A sharp hiss of pain out of Vin had Chris opening his eyes and rolling to his side to get a better look at him. “Back still hurting?”

“A mite,” Vin said, without his usual little half-grin when he said those words.

“Can I see? Maybe give you a rub?”

“One handed?” Vin asked.

Chris held up his good hand and tried smiling. He was damn glad the light in the room was low, the way the side of his head was so bruised, it looked nearly black. He looked like a ghoul and he knew it.

Vin sighed and took his time turning to his other side, trying to hide how bad he hurt and not able to. He slowly lowered the blanket and it was Chris’ turn for a sharp hiss.

“Don’t touch,” Vin said to the wall.

He wasn’t about to touch but he didn’t say so. Vin’s back was as black as Chris’ head and Chris knew Vin had seen how bad he looked. He knew because he could see Vin’s back in too much detail. He wanted to ask what the fuck happened.

“I got no energy, Chris. I’m likely to fall asleep on you.”

“Good, I won’t feel so bad for falling asleep on you then,” Chris said to Vin’s back.

A few minutes of silence had Chris wondering why he’d been in such an all-fired hurry to get out there.

Vin rolled over on his belly and turned his head to the side to face Chris. “Nathan says it could be two months before I’m mended. Said it might take that long for me to make enough blood to feel normal again.”

“That why you’re in bed in the middle of the day?”

Vin gave a little shrug.

They lay silently again and Chris didn’t feel a need to break the silence. He had plenty to say for once, but he didn’t know how.

“Did JD send anything to eat?” Vin asked.

“You hungry?” Chris asked. He didn’t like the idea of getting up to get the basket, or getting up to eat. He couldn’t keep anything down anyway.

“M’starved. I can’t hunt or ride or do much of anything,” Chris could hear the frustration in Vin’s voice and it matched his own frustration over not remembering anything.

Vin had to be really bad off for him to be so reliant on help. Maybe he really didn’t want to remember what happened out there.

“Chris?” Vin asked after a few minutes.

“Hold on, I’ll get it.”

He managed to get up without falling on his ass, but he knew Vin watched him stumble around. He didn’t say a word though.

“You getting up?” Chris asked as he picked up the food basket.

“Nah, I been eating in bed. Never done that in my life,” Vin said, finally showing a hint of a smile.

Chris sat on the floor next to the bed, using the wall as a backrest and resting his arm on the edge of the bed. Vin scooted over so he was right on the edge and Chris opened up the basket. It was filled with all sorts of treats, wrapped in cloth. Biscuits, ham and even raisins.

Chris held up the small sack filled with raisins.

“Nathan says they’ll help me make blood faster. I’m eatin whatever he sends because I’m sick of being flat on my belly.”

“There’s a lot of food here,” Chris said once he had it all pulled out.

“The fellers been taking care of me real good,” Vin said softly. “I know Ezra’s been buyin the extras. He’ the only one with enough money to do it.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some way for you to make it up to him,” Chris said with a little smile. He could tell Vin was embarrassed about all the attention. He would be too.

“JD’s been bringing me rabbits. Skinned and cooked and everything,” Vin said, almost not believing it himself.

“Sounds like you’re living the good life out here.”

Vin went quiet again. Chris knew why. Being waited on because he couldn’t do for himself wasn’t even close to Vin’s idea of a good life.

Vin ate slowly, neatly and methodically. Chris watched him eat, studied the bruising on his face, nearly gone now, and tried to remember how Vin had gotten so bad off.

“You don’t want anything?” Vin asked before he wrapped the leftovers.

“I already ate,” Chris lied. Chris packed the basket and waited for Vin to make room for him on the bed. He settled in next to Vin and watched him lose the battle against drifting off to sleep.

*****

Dark and shadows. A small circle of illumination. Bars. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place where he was. JD and Buck appeared next to him in the cell and he opened his mouth to ask them where the hell they were, but they started in on an argument about JD’s hat. He tried to tell them to shut up, but no words came out of his mouth.

Where in the hell were they? Ezra lay sprawled on the bunk against the wall, wearing his finest purple jacket, gold rings on his hands. The rest of them were filthy, but Ezra nearly shone, he was so clean.

The area directly outside the cell was lit almost like daytime. He tried to get Buck and JD’s attention but they were still in the middle of their silly argument, now since moved on to how full of crap Buck is. He’d try Ezra. He shook him hard, but Standish brushed Chris’ arm off his shoulder and said, ‘Not now, mother.’

He let Ezra go, disgusted with his ability to sleep through anything. He stalked to the front of the bars and grabbed at them, trying to pull them apart, but it didn’t do any good. Where the hell was Vin. And why did his head hurt so bad. He clutched his hands to his head and they came away bloody.

“Buck!” he tried to yell, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He didn’t recognize this place and he didn’t know how he and the others got there. He could feel his frustration building as surely as if it was as solid a thing as the blood dripping down his face.

The door to the room banged open, the doorway backlit by bright sunshine. Three men, dressed like Comancheros came storming into the room, laughing, clearly drunk. He tried yelling again, but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

The three strangers swigged on whiskey bottles and brandished their guns. They spoke to each other in rapid-fire Spanish and Chris couldn’t even catch a word of what they said. He made a move to rush the bars and one of the bandits fired into the cell.

“You like that, gringo,” The one who shot at him leered, showing off a mouthful of rotted, decayed teeth. His mocking grin stretched across his face, making him look skeletal.

“You’ll like this better,” he said, laughing and pointing toward the door.

‘Vin!’ Chris tried to shout. He grabbed for Buck and JD, finally getting their attention.

Four men dragged Vin through the door while he kicked and cursed and spit. He let loose a torrent of Spanish at the men dragging him through the door.

“Vin!” Chris tried to shout again but his vocal cords were still frozen. The shadows shifted and parted and another man entered the room. He was bigger than the rest, much older too. He carried a wicked looking knife and brandished it through the air.

“We ready to have some fun, boys?” he yelled to the men holding Vin.

They whooped and hollered while they fought against the still struggling Vin. Sharp blows to his head, his back, his midsection-- none of it slowed him down and he still tried to claw his way free. Blood dripped from his face, his eyes were already swelling and his shirt had been ripped from him, leaving his torso bare.

Chris pulled on the bars, tried to pull them apart so he could get out there and *help* him. Vin was one of the scrappiest fighters he’d ever laid eyes on, especially since he was such a lean, rangy man, but it didn’t matter if Vin was the best fighter in the world with four men ganging up on him. The other gang members laughed and slapped each other on the back while Vin fought for his life.

If Chris could only get out of the damned cell, he could stop it! Between he and Buck and Ezra and JD, they could get Vin loose and get the hell out of where ever here was.

He tried the bars again while Vin tried to fight them off. Vin fell to the ground and the entire pack was on him the minute he lost his footing. Chris turned to Buck and JD, trying to get them to help him rip apart the fucking bars, but they were fighting over JD’s hat again!

“Buck!” Chris yelled, his voice faint even to his own ears.

He turned back to see if he could see Vin, but the scene had changed. A table stood in the center of the room, all the light in the room focused on it. He couldn’t see into the shadows, couldn’t see where the gang had gotten too.

Four men burst from the darkness, dragging a fifth between them. Naked and bloody, Vin hung limp in their grasp. The hauled him onto the table, flinging him like a side of beef. He put up a brief struggle once their hands left him, but they hit him in the head with a gun butt and he went limp until they tied him down.

Chris attacked the bars again. He thought he heard a bone snap, but he couldn’t feel if he’d done any damage to his arms and he didn’t care.

‘Vin!’ he tried to shout. He kicked at the bars, yelled and cursed and he didn’t care if he made a spectacle of himself. He couldn’t stand by and watch while another person he loved was murdered. It wasn’t fair! Hadn’t he been through enough?

The large man, the leader, it seemed like, entered the glowing ring of light and brandished a large bloody knife. His smile seemed distorted, twisted, like his flesh rotted and melted from his face. It was a thing of nightmares.

He yanked Vin’s head by the hair and placed his knife to Vin’s throat, pricking him until blood welled from the cut. He licked his knife and let Vin’s head drop back to the tabletop.

He moved until he stood between Vin’s spread legs, pulling them apart further. His dick was already swollen and straining at his pants. “I fuck the squaw first, then if there’s anything left, you lot can take turns.”

“NO!” Chris tried to scream. He attacked the bars again, pulling on them, kicking at them, growling. ‘NO!”

Vin’s scream stopped his own. It was the worst thing Chris ever heard in his life. Vin screamed on and on as the outlaw pounded into him. It went on forever and Chris knew he was screaming too.

He finally finished, pulling his blood soaked dick from Vin’s body. Blood ran from Vin, covering his ass, his balls, his legs. Chris couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. He went numb, couldn’t move or feel, but he could see. All four of the others took their turns fucking Vin, who’d gone still and silent.

Chris could hear the words, ‘no. don’t. stop.’ He didn’t know if he said them out loud or not.

Suddenly, Vin’s voice in his head instead of his own. “Chris. Kill me!”

One of the Comancheros raised his gun and pointed it at Vin’s head, pulled back the hammer and squeezed the trigger.

Chris shut his eyes tight and yelled, “NO!” the word dragging on forever as he screamed.

He jerked, startled and opened his eyes. Not happening… it’s not happening. His heart raced as he looked around the sleeping alcove in his shack. Oh god, it was a nightmare. Sharp pain attacked his skull then and he clutched at his head. Maybe not a nightmare? Maybe a memory? He tried to slow his breathing, grasping at memory, locked deep in his mind, but it wouldn’t come-- instead, the pain intensified until he couldn’t bear it.

He stumbled from his bed, almost hitting Vin in the head with his splinted arm. Oh fuck. Vin. He couldn’t look at Vin, not after that dream. One look at Vin’s bruised face and Chris knew he needed to get outside before he became sick all over himself and Vin.

He stumbled through his home, knocking into the table and knocking over the chair as he passed. He swung the door open and bolted into the daylight, still trying to shake off the terror and helplessness of his fucking dream. Didn’t happen. Not like that. Nope. He didn’t know what to believe.

He ducked his head under the pump and pumped the cold water until he was soaked. He tore off his shirt and used it to mop at his face, his chest. He stunk of sweat and his head hurt worse than ever. He cursed as he struck his broken arm on the pump. He raised his arm to get a better look. He thought he’d heard a bone snap in his dream.

If it was a dream. He fell to the ground and rocked, holding his head, trying to fight back the pain. Just a dream, he told himself over and over. Not real.

“Chris?”

Vin sounded weak and out of breath, but there he was, whole and live, standing hunched over on the porch.

“Dammit, Larabbe? You’re gonna end up killing yerself, coming out here the condition you’re in. I done told JD, Ezra, Nathan, Josiah and Buck to keep you in town until you can at least stand on yer own!”

Chris watched, detached, as Vin hobbled off the porch. Oh god, he walked like a man in the saddle too long… or one who… he wouldn’t think about that. It was a fucking dream! That’s all.

“I can’t get down there, Chris,” Vin said softly. “You gonna be able to get up? Can I get ya some water or something?”

Vin went silent, hovering above him, but Chris couldn’t look at him-- not without seeing him being torn apart. He clutched his head harder and rocked a little more, trying to ease the pain some.

“Chris? Vin asked again, breathless after the short walk from the bedroom. “Chris,” Vin said again. “Buggy’s coming. Only one it’s likely to be is JD.”

Chris tried moving, tried to get up and get his hand on his gun. It might be anybody and he needed to be ready. Vin walked ten steps and was panting like he’d just run a race. Chris needed to get himself together and be ready to face whoever came down the road.

He got to his feet and promptly bent in half and puked out bile, setting his head to hammering again.

“It’s JD,” Vin said, relief clear to Chris when almost nothing else was.

Chris opened his eyes and didn’t think about why Vin was having such a hard time walking. He needed to give him a hand, but Chris was none too steady on his feet either.

“JD,” Vin said as soon as JD pulled the buggy to a stop. “I’m awful glad to see you. Chris overdid it. Can you get him back to Nathan’s quick-like?”

JD jumped from the buggy and was at Chris’ side in a flash. “Are you all right, Chris? You look terrible. Where’s your shirt?”

Vin stared at him, but Chris couldn’t look his way. Not without seeing his dream. Memory? He was going to take the coward’s way out and go back to town as if he needed Nathan’s care. Even if a pain drought would be about the best thing in the world right now.

“Vin?” JD asked once he had Chris settled in the buggy. “Do you need help getting back to bed?”

Vin didn’t answer for a minute, but Chris still didn’t look up. He cradled his pounding head in his hands and listened to Vin. If Vin said he needed help, Chris would try to help.

“Nah, JD. It’ll take me a spell to get back in there, but it’s about time I start movin about. Kin you go in and get Chris’ hat and the lunch basket?”

“Sure, Vin.”

“I’d come over there and try to help with the headache, cowboy, Vin drawled as soon as JD was gone, “but I don’t know if I can make it that far and back to yer shack. Don’t you worry about me none, I’m fine.”

He wasn’t fine and Chris knew it. He had to say something, he couldn’t run away without saying something. He couldn’t look at Vin’s bruised face and bent over body without thinking of his own failure. His head was so addled he wasn’t sure he could manage words.

JD came out carrying Chris’ things and the picnic basket, glancing quickly between the two of them. “I should have borrowed a wagon,” JD muttered just loud enough for Chris to hear.

“I can sit up, JD,” Chris managed to say, embarrassed over JD seeing him this way. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he mumbled in Vin’s direction. His head hurt so bad, like a spike being driven through bone and tissue until it came out the other side. He didn’t know if it was being shot that caused it, or the dream. It was a dream, not a memory, he told himself over and over on the long, agonizing ride back to town.

*****

 

Not real… not real. Chris told himself that after each dream, but they were getting worse. Vin getting-- he couldn’t even think the word. Buck skinned, JD gutshot, Ezra tarred and feathered, then hung. He wasn’t sleeping. He still couldn’t eat anything but bread or broth without bringing it right back up. He still looked like a rotting corpse. Nathan offered to try to scare up some leeches to get rid of the blood pooled under his skin, but he’d declined. Where would Nathan find leeches out here anyway.

He slowed his horse to a walk; he’d managed a slow trot for about half the ride, but his head started hurting again and he wasn’t sure if it was from his cracked skull or his dreams. He hated the dreams; he was an observer, no more able to stop any of what happened than he had when he’d been dead weight and out cold. He *knew* they weren’t real because his men were still alive. And none but Vin was even hurt.

Vin. He’d see Vin for the first time in four days any time now. JD reported to him after each ride out there, so he knew Vin was still on the mend, but JD was suspiciously evasive when Chris asked him questions. Which was why he was on his horse and on his way out to his place even though he knew he wasn’t quite up to the ride.

Chris tilted his hat to block out the setting sun and nudged Pony into moving; he’d come to a stop without Chris realizing it. He rounded the last bend and could see the house if he squinted. His vision was still off, but it was getting better. He was getting better, he knew, even if the progress was too slow for his liking. Vin was getting better too, according to JD.

He’d see for himself in a few minutes.

He took his time dismounting, getting Pony unsaddled and turned out into the coral. Peso wasn’t anywhere to be found; in fact, the entire place looked deserted. Irrational fear gripped him. Irrational because he *knew* Vin wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Not to him, not to any of them. Vin valued them to much to do that, no matter how much he was hurting, or ashamed. The thought took him by surprise. What the hell would Vin have to be shamed about? He knew there was something lurking there, just under the surface, something he couldn’t grab hold of, something important.

More important, though, was figuring out where Vin had gotten to. He was steadier on his feet on this visit. The last trip out here was a blur of memory, nightmare and pain.

He took care to make noise on his way into his cabin, stepping a little heavier than was his way, jingling his spurs loudly with each step. Once inside, it took too long for his liking for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He was met with silence; there was no one there. Signs of Vin’s presence were all over the small room. Dishes from various meals piled next to an empty basket, fresh bedding stacked at the foot of the bed. Vin’s clothes… He picked up Vin’s clothing, studying it as if it held a clue to where Vin was.

Where ever he was, he was there without his clothes. If he were a man given to panic, he’d name that sick feeling in his gut as such. A scrap of paper on his table, held down by his lantern caught his eye and he snatched at it.

‘At tha crik’ it said and after he deciphered it, he gave a last look around and headed that way.

He didn’t bother saddling up his horse; it wasn’t more than a few hundred yards and down into a gully to the pretty little stream that ran behind his house. Halfway there, he knew a few hundred yards was almost beyond his endurance these days. By the time he reached the creek, he really needed to sit down, but not until he found what he was looking for.

Nearly dusk, the shadows were heavy, making it almost impossible for him to discern details. He took his time scanning the area and the gnawing in his gut was getting stronger as the minutes passed.

“You looking fer something, cowboy?”

The soft words had him nearly jumping out of his boots, but long years of showing no reaction to heart-attack inducing surprise kept him grounded. Chris scanned the area he thought Vin’s voice had come from, finally zeroing in on him deep in the water in the natural pool that formed in the small bend. They’d dug out the creek-bed, deepening the pool until it was a fair sized soaking area. More than soaking went on in that pool and sharp longing seized Chris.

“You all right?” Vin asked, but didn’t make a move to come out of the pool.

In the shade of the tree that sheltered it, that water stayed pretty damn cold but Vin looked like he’d been soaking for awhile.

“Fine.” Chris said as he took a few steps closer. “My eyes aren’t cooperating-- mostly can’t see in the shadows.”

“You look a sight better’n you did a few days ago,” Vin said.

Chris wished he could say the same of Vin. His color was still too pale and he looked tired, even though JD told him all Vin did was sleep. Chris didn’t know what to say to him and the silence touched on the edge of awkward.

“I’m startin to get chicken skin,” Vin said as he skated through the water to climb out on the side nearest to Chris.

“You left your clothes up at the house.”

Vin hobbled out of the water and grabbed a piece of cloth and held it up before wrapping it around his waist and then tying it. It looked like a modified breechclout.

Vin was moving better, even if only marginally better.

“Took me near on an hour to get down here,” Vin said softly, staring at Chris. “Had to keep stopping to rest. Can’t seem to catch my breath. Might take me a spell to make it back up to yer shack.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” Chris said after a minute. He wanted to reach out and help Vin get to where ever he planned on going, but he didn’t. He couldn’t get the images of Vin being held down out of his head and he was in no shape to help anyone else besides.

“I think I can rest here a spell,” Vin said as he came to sit by Chris. But he didn’t sit. He laid down on his belly and rested his head on his arms. “We’re a fine pair, ain’t we?” Vin asked once he settled in and got comfortable.

Chris didn‘t know what to say. Nothing felt right and that felt the most wrong. “Feel better after a bath?” Chris finally asked.

Vin shrugged. “I tried takin out the stitches, but they were a mite stuck so I thought a soak might help loosen ‘em up some.”

Buck doctored Vin, he remembered that much from Buck proudly telling him so every time he saw him. Buck had sewed Chris up a few times, so he knew Buck could put in stitches; he just hadn’t figured on that being part of the doctoring. “It’s been almost two weeks, they need to come out,” Chris said after doing a little figuring. Those stitches stayed in much longer, it’d hurt like hell taking them out.

Vin shrugged and turned his head so their eyes met. “I know, that’s why I was tryin to pull ‘em.”

“Should I bring Nathan tomorrow?” Chris asked. He wasn’t planning on staying and Vin’s reaction, though he tried to hide it, was one of surprise.

Vin turned away and didn’t answer. Why the fuck was this so hard? Chris was missing some important pieces and he knew it. It had never, ever been this hard between them, not even in the first days when getting to know someone new could be awkward. Especially since Chris hadn’t bothered to even try to know someone new in so many years.

Vin took in a deep breath, but didn’t turn his head so they could make eye contact. “I was kinda hopin you’d do it, Chris. It was bad enough Buck stitched me up while Ezra held me down; I don’t want Nathan rootin around down there too.”

Chris’ mouth went dry and a spike drove through his skull as images flashed in his mind, spurred on by Vin’s words. “Fine,” he said after a too long silence stretched out between them.

“It’s getting dark,” Vin said after more silence.

Chris studied him closely, only able to see the slight shiver when he stared at him hard in the twilight. Chris knew from his own times fighting spilled blood that Vin would feel the chill more than usual, more so since he wasn’t wearing anything to speak of. He stood, fought off the dizziness threatening to send him to his knees and took off his duster. He held it out to Vin but quickly offered his arm instead when Vin had a hard time getting to his feet.

“Reckon I might have a cracked rib or two,” Vin huffed out once he was standing. “But I ain’t pissin blood no more.”

If Vin was fishing, Chris didn’t take his bait. He didn’t want to talk about what happened. He didn’t want Vin to know he couldn’t remember any of it. Vin might feel a need to fill him in then and he didn’t want to hear it. Buck’s grin flashed in his mind then; more than once Buck told him ‘Gotta look forward, not back.’ For once, Chris thought it was good advice instead of the empty-headed, meaningless platitude he usually took it for.

Vin’s labored breathing got Chris moving again. Moving through a barrel of molasses, but still moving. Maybe he’d never be right again. It wasn’t the first time that particular worry attacked him since he’d come to and he was getting better fending off the doubts. He figured he’d been about half crazy for a few years now, at least now he had a physical reason to go with the ones inside his heart and mind.

It was slow going getting back to the house and as soon as they crested the little bank, Vin stiffened and looked around, relaxing after a thorough scan of the surrounding area.

“All right?” Chris asked him before he tried to get them moving again.

“JD’s been out,” Vin said softly. “Brung dinner, I’d guess. Nettie’s been the one skinning and cookin up the rabbits. I done figured it out when the fried livers tasted too good to be JD’s cookin. And when he started bringing fresh bedding.”

“She hasn’t come out?” Chris asked, wondering if that’s why Vin was staying away from the house.

“She won’t come if she ain‘t invited. Won’t stop her from sending things.”

“Where’s Peso?” Chris asked when the silence grew painful again.

Vin stopped and Chris stopped with him. It hurt to listen to Vin have such a hard time breathing. Chris got caught thinking about why losing blood might make it so hard to breathe, one thing had nothing to do with the other as far as he knew, only being brought back to the world around him when Vin started moving again.

“He’s out grazin. Comes and sticks his head in the window looking for molasses candy. I can’t ride him and he’d be kickin his way outta yer little coral before long if I left him in it.”

Vin’s breathing grew labored again from talking and walking at the same time but Chris kept them moving. If they didn’t get to the house soon, his head would start feeling like spikes were skewering it again. Normally, he would have threatened to shoot the gelding for ripping his tar paper window but he couldn’t summon the feelings that led to he and Vin’s normal teasing.

“Head painin you again?” Vin asked as they came to a standstill at the bottom of the two little stairs that led up to his porch.

Chris nodded. It was the truth.

“I don’t know why you listened to me,” Vin said, a tiny smile trying to find it’s way free.

When Chris didn’t answer Vin stared at him. “Raising the porch?” Vin finally said.

Right. Before Vin suggested raising the porch, it sat on the ground-- didn‘t even have a floor besides the dirt of the earth. They’d raised the porch and added a wood floor inside the shack. Kind of surprised him that Vin paid attention to such matters. He didn’t think Vin had ever lived in a proper house his entire life. Maybe that’s why he’d listened to Vin. He wanted to give him a proper house even if he could never imagine admitting it to Vin.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Vin said, this time that tiny little grin actually showing itself.

It should have made Chris feel better but it didn’t. Until his head didn’t feel like it had a bullet sitting deep down inside of it, he didn’t think he’d feel better about anything.

“You got any whiskey?” Vin asked once they were finally inside.

Chris nodded and rummaged through the lone cupboard. Half a bottle. But that would be more than enough for Vin. He grabbed one of his two tin cups, poured a full measure and passed it over to Vin, who stood standing in the middle of the room.

He could see Vin’s question as he handed it over, but didn’t answer it. He hadn’t had so much as a drop of whiskey or beer since he came to. Stopped taking the laudanum as soon as he was able, too.

“You up to this?” Vin asked after he downed the rotgot in one slug. “Another day won’t make a difference.”

“The longer they stay in, the worse it will go,” Chris said as he poured whiskey over his small skinning knife.

Vin nodded and eased himself facedown onto the bed. He left the wrap around his waist and Chris gathered his chair, a clean cloth from the pile of bedding and the bottle of whiskey.

“Might as well do these ones first,” Vin said, pointing back and down at thigh. “I don’t reckon I’ll able to stand much more after you pull the others.”

Chris studied the scabbed over cuts down the back of Vin’s thigh. They ran for nearly six inches each, one toward the outer edge and one toward the inner. The black thread looked dug in but good; they’d already been in too long. Might as well get to it. He was going to have a tough time of it, almost one-handed like he was, but he’d manage somehow.

“Just git to it,” Vin said as time passed and Chris sat still and silent, staring at the back of Vin’s leg.

“It’s a good thing you’re not covered in hair,” Chris said as he took time and care pulling at the first stitch. The skin lifted and fought his efforts, but before long, he had hold of the thread.

Vin didn’t flinch as Chris worked the thread loose on the first cut. Some blood welled up and he dabbed at it with his clean cloth. It wasn’t so bad. “All done with the first one,” Chris said as he pulled the last of the thread out of Vin’s skin. “The next one might be a little more sensitive since it’s toward the inside.”

He ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of Vin’s thigh and got a little shiver out of Vin. He’d best stop that. He wasn’t in any kind of mood for the feelings he got whenever he touched the soft skin of Vin’s inner thigh. He didn’t even want to be thinking about that kind of closeness, the kind only a few weeks before he didn’t even think he could go one day without anymore.

“You gonna do the other one?” Vin asked.

He’d been caught woolgathering again. He couldn’t seem to get his mind to focus and his headache was coming back full force. “Hold tight,” Chris said as he got up to get another clean cloth. “You’re bleeding a little. I’m going to wash them out before I bandage them, all right?”

“Do what needs to be done,” Vin said softly.

It didn’t take long for him to get the stitches out of the second cut. They stuck a little more than the first and the blood welling up from the places they stuck caused another flash of memory. He sucked in a deep breath and quickly wiped away the blood. “This is going to sting,” Chris said as he prepared a cloth soaked in whiskey to clean the cuts.

Vin sucked in a breath but didn’t move as Chris cleaned and then bandaged the cuts. “Finished,” he said once he had the bandages tied off. “They’re healing up real well.” If Buck really was the one that doctored Vin, he’d done a damn good job of it.

Chris started gathering his supplies, ready to lie down next to Vin and close his eyes. When his head really started to pound, he was best off if he closed his eyes and didn’t move.

“I reckon the others need to come out too,” Vin said as he realized Chris thought he was finished.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at Vin, still face down on the bed. While he’d noticed some other cuts scattered over Vin’s body, none of them held stitches.

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to this,” Vin said as he removed the cloth covering his hips and rear. He laid back down and spread his legs wider. “How about you pour me some more of that rotgut before we git to this?” Vin asked.

It took a minute for Chris to understand Vin’s words, he was too busy staring at Vin, trying to fight the panic over the idea that his dream wasn’t a dream but was real. He was afraid to look too close, afraid of the truth.

“Chris?” Vin asked, rolling onto his side so he could see Chris.

Chris nodded to him and turned his back to get his cup and to be sure he had control over his expression. He was about as close to panic as he ever got and Vin would be sure to pick up on it if he let it show. His stomach ached almost as bad as his head. He hadn’t felt such fear in a long time. He didn’t want to look too close at the cause even though he knew that the not knowing was actually the cause.

He handed Vin the cup and sat next to him on the bed, the dip in the mattress causing Vin to almost roll into him. Vin downed the double measure of whiskey in one swallow and met his eyes as he handed him the cup. “If’n you’re not up to this, I reckon you could ask Buck to come out next time you see him.”

Chris shook his head. It needed to be done now, and he could tell that Vin would just as soon not have Buck seeing any more than he had to; than Buck had seen already.

“You ain’t gonna laugh at me if I spring a leak, are ya?” Vin asked as he managed a weak smile.

Chris opened his mouth but his throat was too dry to speak. He cleared it and said quietly, “I’ll be careful. You’ve lost too much blood already.”

“Not that kind of leak, cowboy,” Vin said, averting his eyes. “I’m likely to embarrass us both and bawl like a baby on ya.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just moved down to the end of the bed and sat down.

Vin turned over and shifted, adjusted himself and spread his legs.

Good grief, he was going to be sick. He retched, but thankfully, didn’t get sick. Oh, Vin, what the hell happened? It was what he wanted to ask, but his throat had gone bone dry again.

“How bad does it look?” Vin asked when the silence stretched too long. “I been keeping it real clean and it don’t feel infected, but I can’t rightly look, not the way I can’t barely bend my back.” Vin trailed off into silence and went still.

He had to say something, he knew that. But what the hell could he say? Ugly black stitches ran the length of Vin’s sack, the skin swollen and puffy around them. He reached out to touch, to feel how stuck the thread was, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it yet.

Finally, Chris said, “This is going to hurt.” He glanced up at Vin’s face. He could only see one side of his face and Vin’s eyes were closed. “I’m going to put a wet cloth on there while that whiskey works it’s way into you.”

Vin gave a small nod and Chris wet his cloth and draped it over Vin’s balls. He didn’t want to look any more than he had to, and he felt like a real shit for it. All he had to do was look; Vin was the one who had to feel it, had been living with this all that time. But knowing he was a heel for not wanting to look at it and deal with it didn't make it any easier to do it.

"Hey, barkeep? How 'bout another?" Vin asked softly, voice tight. He held the cup in Chris' direction, but didn't open his eyes.

Chris poured, grateful for something to do that wasn't going to cause Vin more pain, then put the cup in Vin's waiting hand. Again, Vin downed it one gulp, then settled his cheek back onto the bed.

With a shaking hand, Chris lifted the cloth and slowly reached forward with one finger. He barely touched the edge of one of the stitches, felt himself shudder from head to toe, and looked up quickly to check Vin's reaction. His breathing appeared to have picked up some, but otherwise Vin appeared to be trying to ignore what he was doing.

Chris swallowed hard, and looked back down. The stitches needed a bit more softening. Vin might've had them softened at the creek, but the way he and Vin had hobbled back to the shack like two old men, those stitches had long dried. Chris re-moistened the cloth and carefully placed it back over Vin's sack again.

A soft snort from Vin brought Chris' head back up with a snap. "What?" Chris asked.

"Jist thinking, is all," Vin said, voice still tight, but his words came out slow, an indication he was feeling a slight buzz from the whiskey. "Never thought I'd say these words, but... be gentle, cowboy."

Laughter, subdued but unmistakable bubbled up from within. It was either that, or scream, and Chris knew that wasn't the best idea, so he let the laughter out instead. "I'll do my best," Chris answered, glad that Vin's eyes were still squeezed shut, so that he didn't have to see that Chris was actually closer to going loco than he was to getting himself together.

Checking under the cloth again, he could see that the stitches were as soft as they were likely to get. No more stalling, he knew, and his stomach lurched again. He fought it back though, and gritted his teeth as he readied the tip of the clean knife at the first stitch.

With the first prick at the bottom stitch, Vin sucked in a ragged breath, and Chris nearly dropped the knife. Hell, that was all he needed, to do more damage like that. Chris swore at himself silently to get his shit together and think of Vin instead of his sorry self. He pricked again at the stitch, as carefully as he could possibly manage, and it popped free.

Chris let out a long breath and wiped his sweaty forehead on his sleeve. Vin's breaths came at a rapid pace, and his thighs quivered with tension, but his eyes were still shut tight. He went back to the next stitch, still fighting down the tossing and turning in his belly, and got that thread free. He could see that the stitches above were going to dry up again, so he took the moist cloth and positioned it on the upper stitches. That actually worked pretty good, because Chris could concentrate on what he was doing without having to look at all the others he'd have to pick out before he was done.

Methodically working his way up, Chris folded the cloth a little higher as he finished each stitch. He ignored each hitch of Vin's breath, each stifled whimper of pain. He had to, or Chris would throw the knife across the room and scream. Every time he lowered the knife to dig at an embedded stitch, a sharp twinge reverberated in Chris' skull, intense enough to make his vision blur sometimes, so Chris had to go real slow. One slip up, and he'd finish the job someone had already started.

Chris paused, tilted his head back and took a deep breath as quietly as he could. It was killing him that he couldn't remember it happening. He felt as damned useless now as he'd obviously been then. Vin shaking under him brought Chris back quickly though. He could feel sorry for himself later. He let out that breath, nice and slow, and went back to work.

Finally, the last stitch popped free. Chris' next long breath was one of relief. He dabbed the little pricks of blood welling over the skin of Vin's sack, then re-wet the cloth and placed it over the whole thing, pressing just enough to hopefully allow the cool moisture to bring some relief to the stinging Vin had to be feeling.

He forced himself to look up at Vin's face for the first time in long minutes, and his throat closed up on him when he saw a line of tears leaking from Vin's tightly closed eyelids. Chris looked around, spotting the whiskey bottle on the floor next to his feet. He poured Vin another cup, but his hand was shaking, so of course he sloshed some in the process. He didn't stop to wipe it off yet, though. Instead he leaned over and put the cup up against Vin's hand.

"One more drink, Vin," he whispered, not trusting his voice to work proper.

Vin took the cup and tipped it back quickly, coughing a little as he gulped it down. Vin's throat was probably locked up as tight as his own, Chris realized. Only then did Chris wipe his hand, giving it a swipe over his pants as he lifted the bottle to guzzle straight from the source.

His head spun a little, partly from the whiskey and partly from the mercilessly throbbing headache. "Think you can sleep a little?" Chris asked, still whispering.

"I'm plum wore out, Chris. Yeah, I think I can sleep," Vin answered quietly.

Chris pulled the cloth from Vin's sack, and reached for the blankets bunched at the end of the bed. Vin hissed softly as he scooted over, still on his belly, but his legs closed. It left Chris plenty of room on the other side, and Chris took him up on it, curling next to him as he pulled the blankets up over them both.

He reached out one hand, hovered it over Vin's bare shoulder, then decided he'd done enough touching for the day. He tugged the blankets a little higher, covering that shoulder, and then gave in to the urge to touch, over the top of the blanket. Vin sighed softly, accepting what little offer of comfort Chris could give, and Chris was glad he'd given in to himself.

But as he closed his eyes to sleep, images of those stitches flashed vividly in his mind. He might sleep, too, but it looked like it wasn't in the cards for him to get any peace from it.

*****

The stillness of the night helped his headache but he was right; he didn’t sleep. Nearly dawn and he may have dozed once or twice, but he got no rest. He didn’t try to call memory; he emptied his mind of all but the soft sounds of Vin sleeping and the animals of the night. By closing his eyes and relaxing his body, he at least found some respite from his headache.

It was still dark when he rose, covering Vin with the blankets and quietly creeping outside into the pre-dawn. He didn’t normally see this time of day, mostly when he was out on the trail, or if it had been an unusually late night. He took his time strapping on his gun, turning his belt so he could get to his weapon with his left hand. A faint sound in the brush past the corral had him trying for his gun and feeling like a greenhorn when it took him too long to draw. He needed to find some way to handle the loss of his right hand for another month.

The movement in the brush grew bolder, ruling out a wild animal. It was still too dark to see, but the hoof beats were unmistakable as Peso trotted out of the brush and into the clearing. He whickered softly and Chris crossed the yard to meet him.

“Hey, boy,” Chris said, reaching out to grab his halter. He studied the gelding for a minute and made a decision. He had nothing better to do until it got light enough for him to ride into town. He led Peso to the corral and turned him into it, watching the horses’ little reunion, smiling despite himself.

He grabbed what he needed from his saddlebags and took his time giving both horses a thorough brushing out. It was easy enough to do and it kept him busy. “Bet you feel better,” he said to Peso as he finished grooming him and stepped back. The east sky was starting to turn gray, light enough for him to ride back to town.

He couldn’t name the urge that had him so restless, made him feel like he needed to be in town. He saddled his horse and was ready to mount up when he glanced back at his little shack, quiet in the pre-dawn, no signs of life within.

He couldn’t leave without checking to see if Vin was awake, he knew that, even though that was precisely what he wanted to do. He had an easier time talking to Vin’s horse than he had talking to Vin himself. That was too many kinds of wrong to even think about. But he didn’t know what to do about it.

He took off his spurs before he stepped onto the porch. He didn’t want to wake Vin and it wasn’t because Vin needed his rest. He slipped quietly inside, not able to make out any details in the darkness. It was a good thing his house was mostly an empty room and he made it to the back corner and the sleeping area without making any noise.

He didn’t sit on the bed, didn’t reach out to touch Vin, though the urge to brush his hair off his face was almost painful. He studied his face in the near darkness, watched the rise and fall of his chest and thought about how useless he felt. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself-- knew it but couldn’t stop it. He’d get sucked right back down into the pit of self-recrimination and guilt he’d recently climbed out of if he didn’t do something, and soon.

He filled the bedside pitcher with water and quietly packed the basket with the empty dishes. It was something. He reminded himself to bring a new bottle when he came back; Vin had done a good job of making work of the half-full one the night before.

So he had a plan and it didn’t involve crawling into a bottle, or sitting on his backside feeling sorry for himself. It was something to hold on to. He left the cabin with a last look at Vin, making sure his mare’s leg was within easy reach before quietly shutting the door behind himself.

It didn’t take him long to feed both horses the small bit of grain he’d brought with him. While they ate, he wrote a note on the note Vin had left for him. He wanted to write out some of what was in his head, things he couldn’t say out loud, but Vin could barely read. It wouldn’t do any good for Vin, would probably leave him wondering what Chris could write and not say. In the end, all he wrote was ‘See you tonight.’ He hoped Vin could read it, was pretty sure he’d be able to.

As he rode away, he looked back to be sure to he’d left the corral open for Peso, though the gelding wasn’t showing signs of wanting out. The horse wasn’t likely to stray far and if he did, Chris would find him for Vin. Vin wouldn’t be sitting a horse for some time to come. He finally knew why Nathan had said that, the reality better than the fear that had been gnawing at him. He’d thought that’s why Vin didn’t want to see any of them. He still wasn’t sure it hadn’t happened the way he’d been dreaming.

The reality of Vin’s wounds had been bad enough. He wondered if he’d witnessed Vin being tortured, wondered what he’d been doing while someone nearly cut Vin’s balls off. Wondered what the rest of them had been doing too. Wasn’t a surprise the way JD was playing errand boy for Vin if he’d seen what happened. Boy had a heart almost as big as Buck’s and he looked up to Vin. It was probably a good thing JD was the one taking care of Vin’s needs. JD’s actions wouldn’t be looked on as pity but as a genuine desire to help.

And what did his actions say? That he was better at dealing with horses than people? That about summed it up. Town came into view as he tried to reason out why he’d been acting the way he had been, like he was afraid to know what he’d been witness to. Like he was grateful for the loss of memory, almost like he wasn’t remembering on purpose. He’d been lost in thought the entire ride back to town. Good thing his horse knew the way and good thing there hadn’t been any trouble. Not paying attention was a good way to get yourself and those you cared about hurt.

He slowed Pony to a walk as he rode into town. He took the back way to the livery, avoiding anyone who may be up with the dawn. He thought he might be able to get some sleep now, but if that didn’t work out, he could always take a turn watching the jail. Doing something might go a ways toward taking away the outright feelings of being a useless sack of shit.

Whispers and a flash of movement down the side street next to the livery had him reining in Pony and dismounting as quick as he was able. He tied the horse to the nearest hitching post and ducked down the alley. He thought he saw two men slinking around, carry something between them, but he didn’t trust his vision these days. Whatever they were up to, their sneaking around could only mean they were up to no good. Well, not in his town, dam it!

They carried their bundle awkwardly between them and into the livery. Chris wished his vision weren’t so blurry; he couldn’t tell what they were stealing. He followed them inside and snuck up on them as they hefted their bundle over a horse. He was suddenly thankful he’d forgotten his spurs back at his shack.

He studied them from the shadows as they whispered and gestured harshly at each other; arguing he knew without a doubt. But about what? They were a couple of non-descript cowboy types. Real cowboys, not gunslingers, shopkeepers, gamblers or kids. Both lean and medium height, not old or young. The blond one grabbed hold of his companion and shoved him toward his horse. JD’s horse munched his hay in the next stall and Chris was ready for him to try to steal it. That wasn’t going to happen. Not with him there.

A muffled grunt, then a stifled, high-pitched scream came from under the tarp-covered bundle on the horse. The cowboy smacked the bundle hard and Chris had seen and heard enough.

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he stepped out of the shadows.

Both men spun toward him, meeting his already drawn gun. The mounted one glanced toward the doorway Chris blocked and Chris coldly drew back the hammer. No doubt what that bundle was now and Chris would shoot him if he tried to get past him.

“That’s Larabee,” the blond cowboy said.

“Get off your horse. Slowly.”

“We wasn’t going to hurt her, Mr. Larabee,” the dark-haired one whimpered as he dismounted. “It was all his idea,” he pointed at his companion.

All he had to do was get them to the jail. He was bone tired and so fucking *mad* they thought they could steal a woman from the middle of town and get away with it. He wanted to shoot them where they stood. Instead he gave a little wave with his gun, motioning for them to move to the corner.

He was alone, with a broken arm and weaker than he wanted to admit. Where the fuck were the rest of the peacekeepers? Most likely snoring in their beds. He’d have to leave the unknown woman tied and on the horse until he had the men jailed.

“We was gonna bring her back,” the blond said.

He’d be the problem, Chris knew. The other was cowed having been caught, but this one was looking for a way out. Chris would give him one, all right. Straight out of the barrel of his gun.

“We might even have paid her next payday. The whore wouldn’t give credit and a crooked gambler stole all our pay.” He advanced toward Chris and if he made one move toward his gun, Chris would pull the trigger and never once feel a speck of guilt over it.

“Shut your mouth,” Chris said, his voice nearly dripping with his anger, as the blond opened his mouth to plead his case again. He motioned at them again and the two of them moved together.

He was ready for their move, they telegraphed it. He squeezed the trigger just as they dove at him and he barely got out of the way as they jumped him. He kicked out, catching one square in the balls. He went down to one knee, but quickly came back up. They came at him again and he took aim and fired. One went down-- he didn’t miss this time-- they were only a foot away from him. The blond was down, but not out. He went for his gun and Chris shot him again just as the second man bowled him over.

Chris struggled with him, nearly losing hold of his gun as he went down, smacking his head and broken arm as he hit the ground. Grit kept him going, that and a surge of anger that had him literally seeing red. He hit him on the head with his gun butt, hard enough to knock him out and hopefully, break his skull. The fucker deserved it. Chris climbed to his feet, gun aimed at him in case he got back to his feet.

The blood still rushed in his ears, muting the twin throbbing from his arm and head. He kicked at the one he’d hit, catching him square in the ribs. He tried to catch his breath, but fell to his knees, dropping his gun as he went down hard. He puked out more bile, retching into the straw. Fuck, he hurt, but he was still more pissed than hurting. How dare they!

Running feet hitting the sidewalk had him reaching for his gun again, fighting back the pain in his arm. Next fucker through that door had a bullet with his name on it. The rapid approach slowed and Chris realized whoever came now wouldn’t be a threat just as a black-haired head popped through the doorway.

“Buck,” Chris grated out and Buck stopped being cautious and hurried into the livery.

Chris slumped to the ground and lowered his gun.

Buck checked both men, kicking their guns away before approaching him.

“On the horse,” Chris said, almost at the end of his endurance. He wouldn’t pass out. He stood and a wave of dizziness sent him right back to his knees.

“Chris!” Buck called out. “You hit?”

Chris shook his head-- bad idea, that. “On the horse, Buck!” he said again as Buck reached for him. He shook off Buck’s hands and staggered to his feet. He leaned back against the wall and managed to stay on his feet this time.

Buck stared at him, then spun to do what Chris ordered.

“Miss CoraLee!” Buck nearly shouted after he pulled the bundle off the horse and cut the ropes binding the canvas.

The girl’s blue eyes were wide with fear and red with tears. Buck cut the ropes binding her hands and removed the gag and she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.

“It’s all right, darlin,” Buck crooned as he rubbed her back. He met Chris’ eyes over her shoulder and gave him a tight nod. “I’ll take her to Nathan’s,” Buck said as he stood, sweeping the still weeping woman up in his arms.

“Get Ezra, JD or Josiah,” Chris said to his retreating back. He was going to have to wait there for one of them. The kidnapper he shot twice was dead, the stench of released bowels was unmistakable, even in the livery. The one he’d brained was breathing, that he could see, but it was a rattling kind of breathing. Chris didn’t give a shit if he died. Kind of hoped he would so he wouldn’t have to sit there and wait for someone to get him out of there.

His fury hadn’t stilled any; he was ready to shoot someone else. How dare they! He slid down the wall until he sat against it, gun at the ready. He couldn’t believe he’d fucking missed with his first shot. He could shoot left-handed; it wasn’t his best shooting, but he always hit what he aimed at. He’d make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Finally, someone approached and Chris cocked his gun; he wasn’t taking any chances. JD, half dressed and with bed-head rushed into the room and Chris dropped his gun. It was about fucking time.

“Get them out of here,” Chris said as he staggered to his feet and walked out. He didn’t think he’d make it to his second floor room at the boarding house, so he went to the jail instead. He collapsed onto one of the bunks and promptly passed out.

*****

“Hush, JD! You’re gonna wake up Chris.”

“You’re being louder than me!” JD whispered louder than some people shouted.

“He looks like he can use some sleep,” Buck said a little softer. “He ain’t been getting the sleep he should be getting.”

“But it’s a good thing he was up to catch those cowboys trying to kidnap CoraLee.”

Chris opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was. He couldn’t be in his room, not with Buck and JD going on like that. They knew better than to come into his room uninvited in the middle of the night. Only it was light out, so it wasn’t night. It took some time for him to see anything other than that it was light out. Bars came into focus, and the scratchiness of a wool blanket bristled against his cheek. Jail. Middle of the day. Fuck, he’d passed out. Useless.

“Buck,” JD said and Chris sat up as quick as he was able.

“Hey, stud,” Buck said as he approached with a quickly poured shot of whiskey. “We been waiting for you to come to and tell us what happened. CoraLee’s still too shook up to talk about it and the two that tried to kidnap her are dead.”

He took the cup and raised it to his lips, but lowered it when the smell hit him. He didn’t need to be drinking in the middle of the day. He let his head right itself, almost surprised that while he was a little dizzy, he didn’t really hurt too badly. Just enough to remind him to be careful.

Once the dizzy spell passed he got to his feet and poured himself some water from the pitcher sitting on the table. “Both dead?”

“Yup,” Buck said, nodding and obviously untroubled.

He was untroubled by the news, too. Neither one of them would be around to do more harm. But now, he needed to do something about his useless arm. Next time, he’d get them with the first shot.

Buck and JD went back to whatever they normally did when he didn’t say anything else to them, but he didn’t miss their shared look. He took a seat behind JD’s desk and leaned back and studied his arm. If he wanted it to be right again, he’d have to rest it some. Bottom drawer. He saw Vin stash one of his oversized bandanas in it last time they watched some prisoners and played cards in the jail.

He made a sling and had it almost tied around his neck when he realized Buck stood next to him, studying him.

“Need some help?”

He shook his head and finished tying the make-shift sling. That done, he unbuckled his useless gunbelt. He’d scare up a left handed one until he could use his right arm again. Maybe Josiah had an old one laying around-- of course he’d have to make some extra holes in it… “What?”

“Nothing,” Buck said, backing away from where he’d been hovering over Chris. “Just wondering where you went off to.”

Woolgathering again, but he wouldn’t worry about it. He didn’t bother answering Buck. He had more important things to do. He knew what he was after-- it was the perfect solution. On the back of the horse they slung the girl over sat a shotgun. It was the perfect answer to his problem.

He moved with a purpose he hadn’t felt in days. It didn’t take him long to find the dead men’s belongings. They were piled on the cot in the second cell. It was just what he was after. Twelve gauge, twenty-inch double barrels. He could wield it with only his left arm and he damned well wouldn’t miss.

“Chris?” Buck called out after him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, cradling the shotgun under his arm and against his side.

He turned around to look at Buck and Buck stopped in his tracks. He arched an eyebrow at Buck, asking ‘what?’

“Never mind,” Buck said after staring at him for a long minute. “C’mon JD,” Buck yelled back toward the jail. “I’m starving, boy!”

Chris watched them go from his perch on the sidewalk. From in front of the jail, he had a damn good view of most of the town. The part of town that was most vulnerable to attack, anyway. The bank, Mrs Potter’s store, the livery. He could also see anyone coming or going. He settled down into one of the chairs to watch the goings on of the town.

When the sun was near to setting, he’d made another decision. Certain things needed changing in town and beginning with the next sunrise, he’d make them. But now, he needed to ride out to his place and check on things there.

*****

He waited until dusk before starting the trip out to his place. He worried a little, leaving the town just as the nightly ruckus started up, but he’d left JD and Buck instructions. He wanted someone sober and on watch all night. Ezra could take the latest shift since he’d be up late anyway. He didn’t care what order the other four took watch in, as long as they did it.

It was full dark by the time he approached his homestead, but there were no lights lit inside. Vin might be sleeping, he might be out. He’d been cooped up inside for far longer than Chris ever imagined he’d tolerate. He made plenty of noise unsaddling his horse and getting him turned out into the corral for the night. Still, there was no sound from inside.

He took his time gathering the rest of the things he’d brought out. Dinner from the boardinghouse, things from Vin’s wagon. He sat heavily down on the steps and lit a smoke. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do. He’d wait for Vin to show himself. He finished his third cheroot and there was still no sign of Vin.

It looked like he’d have to go looking. There were a few places around the property that Vin liked to sleep. He hadn’t expected Vin to go far, not after the night before and now that he knew the extent of Vin’s injuries. He hadn’t thought Vin *could* go far. Maybe he left a note.

He wasn’t trying to be quiet as he entered his small house, lit a lantern, lit a fire in the stove and started warming dinner. As he ladled the soup he planned to eat into his one and only battered pot, he suddenly knew he wasn’t alone. He spun around, going for his gun, cursing his broken arm, and gave the room a quick once-over.

In the bed, sound asleep, Vin was stretched out half on his belly, half on his side, one leg cocked, one arm over his head. He was uncovered and naked. He looked dead.

Chris didn’t want to check. He couldn’t. Vin was fine when he left him in the morning. He couldn’t be dead. He dropped heavily into the chair and stared from across the room. In the dim lamplight and with his eyes still not working the way they ought, it took him agonizingly long moments to distinguish the slow rise and fall of Vin’s chest. Alive. But so out, he didn’t hear Chris arrive, didn’t hear him take care of the horses, didn’t hear him come in and start dinner. He wouldn’t be alive long if this kept up.

His heart rate back to where it should be, he picked up the ladle off the floor and stormed out, purposely slamming the door. He took his time washing it in the rain barrel before going back inside.

“Hey, cowboy,” Vin drawled from the bed as soon as he opened the door. “You been here long?” Vin asked, still half asleep.

He tossed the ladle onto the table and stared at Vin before answering. “Long enough to collect a bounty if I wanted to.”

Vin looked embarrassed and ducked his head. Good, he should be embarrassed. He was going to get himself killed staying out here all alone when he couldn’t defend himself.

“I think I overdid it today,” Vin said, head still bowed. “I hate this. I ain’t never been laid up for so long.”

Chris turned back to cooking their dinner. He didn’t come out here to fight with Vin. Actually, he didn’t have a fucking clue why the hell he rode all the way out here in the dark. If he let loose with the feelings boiling inside, the fight would be ugly.

“You gonna talk to me?” Vin asked. “I weren’t expecting you tonight.”

Chris spied his note on the table and held it up. “See you tonight. That’s what it says.”

“I done read it. It was near to dark and you weren’t here, so I figured you got held up in town. JD told me what happened this morning.”

He didn’t turn back to face Vin. Almost couldn’t stand to watch him make his way across the room. He could hear him shuffling well enough; he didn’t need to see it.

“Why don’t you come to bed?” Vin asked from fairly close. “You don’t need to make dinner, Chris. You need to sleep.”

“And you need to eat.”

“I need to sleep, too.”

Vin’s soft admission, delivered with such bone-dead weariness, stopped him mid-stir. He slowly lowered the ladle, so it didn’t make a sound, and turned around to look at Vin. He stood in the middle of the small room, a quilt Chris didn’t recognize draped over his shoulders and hanging to the floor. His eyes were only half open and his hair was lank and stringy. He didn’t look fevered, he looked cold. His skin was so translucent it was almost transparent. He looked like death.

Whatever the hell Chris was pissed at, it wasn’t Vin. He knew that much. Okay, so maybe a little pissed at him for not watching his back like he should. But he *couldn’t* watch his back the state he was in.

He finally met Vin’s eyes, surprised at how little of *him* showed through. He was as bad off as Nathan had tried to tell him. Nathan’s words, ‘He should be dead,’ came back to him as clear as when he spoke them earlier that evening.

“Go back to bed. I’ll join you with food as soon as it’s warmed,” Chris said, keeping eye contact.

Vin nodded and shuffled back toward the bed. That was easier than it should have been.

It didn’t take him long to get their dinner heated up. He hoped he’d be able to keep it down. He *knew* he had to eat if the dizzy spells were ever going to stop, but he still couldn’t keep much down. He filled his two tin cups with the broth, then stuck the bread inside his sling. By the time he reached the bed, Vin was out again. He gave his shoulder a little shake and Vin stirred after a time.

“You can sleep after you eat,” Chris said as he settled onto the bed. He handed Vin one of the mugs and pulled out the bread, holding it up so Vin could see it. He got a little smile at that; Vin recognized the sweet bread he loved so much.

Chris managed to eat the entire cup without his gut roiling. It was better than the last time he tried. He sighed as he took the half-full mug from Vin’s hand. He’d fallen asleep again. He reached out to stroke Vin’s hair and Vin shifted under his hand. Out, but not totally so. Chris scooted down a little, so he was lying down. He gave a quick check to be sure his shotgun was in easy reach before he pulled the quilt higher onto Vin’s shoulders. If he caught a chill, it could kill him.

Chris had gone to see Nathan before he rode out. Nathan might have something to help Vin with the pain he couldn’t escape. He got more than a bottle of laudanum for his troubles, though. He got a Nathan Jackson on a full out healing tear, questioning him about his own health and Vin’s. Nathan’s frustration couldn’t be more clear if he spelled it out and Chris let him give his lecture. He wanted to know more anyway.

“He lost too much blood, Chris. I don’t even know how he’s still with us. The puddle of blood in that room…” Nathan’s voice trailed off and Chris was just as glad it did. He didn’t need more visuals to add to the ones his mind had already conjured. “I don’t know how either one of y’all’s still alive, but I ain’t gonna question it. You tell him to keep warm and to stay out there at your place. If he gets so much as a little cold, it could kill him. He’s gonna have trouble breathing. He won’t keep awake for long and he needs to eat. You be sure he eats.”

Nathan gave him instructions for what seemed like an hour. Chris just hoped he could remember them all. Eat. Sleep. Keep warm. He could remember that much. But the image of Vin lying in a puddle of his own blood wouldn’t leave him. It got added to his parade of pictures.

He came to with a start, realizing he’d been lost in his head again when Vin shifted under his hand and mumbled, “gonna rub my skin off clean off.”

He didn’t pull his hand back from Vin’s shoulder, but did stop rubbing the soft skin. Man who spent so much time outdoors had no right to have such soft skin. The touch was a balm to Chris. It took away some of his anger. He wasn’t mad at Vin. Maybe at everything else in the world, but not at Vin.

Maybe mostly at himself for being such a useless sack of shit.

“I know I ain’t been much use lately,” Vin sighed out softly. “M’sorry.”

He hadn’t realized he said the words out loud. Damn. “Not you, Vin,” he nearly whispered.

Vin’s breathing evened out again and Chris figured he’d drifted off. He was nearly asleep himself when he felt Vin shifting around. Vin hissed in pain as he moved and Chris almost got up to offer him the laudanum he had in his saddlebag.

“Don’t move,” Vin said, shifting so he was lying nearly on top of Chris. He hooked his leg over Chris’ and rested his head on Chris’ chest. “Red suits ya,” Vin said, toying with the sling. He went quiet again and Chris went over his plans for the morning in his head. Once he had Vin fed, he’d go back to town and put his plan into action.

“Bout time you tied up that arm. Won’t never heal if you keep using it.”

“Shh,” Chris said, going back to rubbing Vin’s shoulder. “Sleep.”

He went quiet again, but not for long. Vin took in a deep breath and Chris realized he had been working up to saying something. Vin didn’t raise his head to speak, kept it right over Chris’ heart while he’d been pondering. “After it was all over, we was just like this for nearly two days. Only thing kept me from moving on was the sound of yer heart. Even out cold, ya ain’t useless.”

Vin’s words echoed in his head for nearly half the night. It was a nice sentiment, but he didn’t believe them. All the signs pointed out the truth; he hadn’t done a damned thing to stop what happened back there. And there was no changing that fact. If he ever did remember that time, he’d know for sure. And maybe that’s why he didn’t remember.

*****

 

*****  
  
“What’cha doin, Chris?”  
  
Chris didn’t turn around to look at JD, instead he studied the sign he’d just nailed to the door of the saloon. He knew JD could read, was confident he’d figure it out on his own. But JD could be helpful.   
  
Finished with his task, he turned around to face JD. “Nail these up around town,” he said as he handed the stack of notices over. He reached into his sling and pulled out his bag of nails and handed them to JD as well.  
  
“No public drunkedness,” JD read, then glanced at Chris. He glanced back down, squinting at the small print. “First offense two dollar fine and a night in jail, second offense two days in jail and five dollar fine.”  
  
Satisfied JD would post the notices, Chris headed down the boardwalk to get to work on his next task.   
  
“Chris? Hey Chris? I don’t think we have enough room in the jail.”  
  
He’d worry about that when the time came. A few arrests should keep the rest of the rowdies in line so it wouldn’t be a problem. And the ones who couldn’t pay the fines would work them off doing chores around town.  
  
“Mr. Larabee? Mr. Larabee?”   
  
The voice followed him down the sidewalk until he stopped. Damned infuriating woman.  
  
“Mrs. Travis,” he said, keeping his voice low and even instead of telling her to go away.  
  
“I’ll have the additional notices you ordered ready after lunch.”  
  
He watched her fix her hair and smooth her dress but didn’t respond other than giving her a small nod.  
  
“Will you be ordering any more ordinance posters?”  
  
He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure what she was getting at.  
  
“Well, since you are instituting some civilizing ordinances, I was hoping you’d be enforcing a sidearm ban.”  
  
“Not likely,” he said. “Is that all?”  
  
“Mr. Larabee… Chris… I’m grateful to see you imposing some much needed order on the town. It will go a long way toward making Four Corners more hospitable to families and children.”  
  
“I’m not civilizing the place, Mary, only enforcing some common sense around here.” He tipped his hat to her and walked off. He’d assign JD to post the additional notices while he rode out to his place.   
  
For now, he had a town to watch. He hefted his shotgun under his left arm, holding it at the ready. As he talked to Mary, a group of four men rode into town. He’d best see what they were up to.   
  
*****  
  
He was tired and his head hurt and all he wanted was a little break. But it looked like the jail wasn’t the place to go to for peace and quiet.  
  
“Chris!” Buck yelled as soon as he stepped inside. “I was wonderin when you were gonna show up. I got no room for any more prisoners. How about we let these boys go?”  
  
He dropped into the chair behind the desk and put his feet up. He took his time considering the men in the cells, crowded in there four to a cell.   
  
Buck stared at him, hands on his hips, but Chris ignored him.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, Buck pulled over another chair and swung it around, sitting backward on it. “How’s Vin?” He asked after more silence.  
  
“Better, but still sleeping too much.”  
  
“Give it time, like Nathan said,” Buck told him. “Now. What are we gonna do about the prisoners?”  
  
“Have they paid their fines?”  
  
“Nope,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Say they don’t got the money.”  
  
“Set ‘em to getting wood for the fires, then let them go,” Chris said, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.  
  
Buck got the message, getting busy taking care of the prisoners as soon as Chris closed his eyes. He was so tired, but he still had things to do. He’d just close his eyes for a minute. The ride out to his place to check on Vin, made twice a day, once in each direction, was taking more out of him than he’d like and he still wasn’t eating enough. But he had a town to protect and Vin to see to and prisoners to oversee.  
  
He heard the gunshots before he realized he’d fallen asleep. In his dream, he and the rest of the seven were fighting for their lives and he came awake with a start, realizing the gunshots were real.  
  
Buck followed him out of the jail, right on his heels. Nathan and Ezra were already in the street when they got there and they already had things under control.  
  
Just a couple of drunk cowboys, shooting in the air, raising a ruckus and Chris turned around and went back to the jail. Buck, Nathan and Ezra were more than capable of handling the trouble. Maybe it *was* time to start thinking about a sidearm ban within town limits.   
  
When he got back to the jail, he opened one of the cell doors and motioned the men out. He recognized all of them, two ranch hands, the bank clerk and a homesteader from south of town.  
  
“You can go,” Chris said as he opened the door. “Town fires need wood. Once you’re finished, you’re free to go, but if you’re drunk in public again, you’ll spend the full two days in the jail.”  
  
One by one they filed out, nodding warily to Chris as they passed him. He needed a bigger jail. Only reason he let them go was because there were going to be new occupants any minute.  
  
Confident the men would do as he ordered, he went back to his seat. He watched silently as the new prisoners were led into the cells, deciding whether or not to confiscate their guns until they paid their fines.  
  
“Just ain’t right telling a man he can’t drink,” one of them yelled at Chris and Chris let his feet drop off the desk. He took his time approaching the cell, wanting to do nothing more than smack the stupid off the cowboy.  
  
“No one’s telling you you can’t drink,” Chris said. “I don’t care if you’re drunk every second of the day. But when you shoot off your gun in my town, I got a problem.”  
  
Chris held eye contact until he looked away. This one might be a problem and Chris would hold him until the judge arrived if he gave him any more guff. With real criminals out there, he didn’t like his time being wasted by a no account, dumber than dirt cowboy.  
  
“Hey, Chris,” Buck called from the other side of the jail. “Why don’t you go to your room and get some rest. You look like hell, pard.”  
  
He would if he could. But he still couldn’t lie in his bed and close his eyes without getting unwanted pictures flashing through his mind. He’d keep busy until it passed.   
  
He nodded to Buck, not in any kind of mood to explain himself, not sure if he even could, and stalked out of the jail. The itchy feeling between his shoulders wouldn’t go away and neither would his headache. He hefted his shotgun under his arm and decided he needed to take a look around town. There was no telling what people were up to.  
  
Behind the livery, he spotted a group of boys loitering. They were harmless, he knew that, but something inside him knotted up when he spotted the teens. Three of them, doing nothing but jawing at each other and he watched them quietly for a few minutes. He couldn’t explain the feelings he got watching them, but his instincts told him he needed to grab control of the situation. He recognized two of them as he got closer. Homer Potter and Conklin’s grandson, in town from an outlying farm for a few weeks. The third, he’d never seen before.  
  
Boys that age only found trouble if they didn’t have something to do. He knew that from when he was that age and from a feeling he got watching them. It was too strong to come from anywhere rational. What he wanted to do was lock them up. What the hell was happening to him.  
  
“Uh, hi, Mr. Larabee,” the Potter boy said as soon as he saw him coming at them.  
  
Chris didn’t answer the greeting, just watched the boys for any signs of guilt. It flashed across their faces and he knew he caught them up to no good. He waited them out. Grown men couldn’t keep their peace when confronted with his silent stare, three boys wouldn’t either.  
  
“I have chores,” the Conklin boy said as he poised to flee.  
  
“Hold it,” Chris said softly. “What are you three planning?”  
  
“Nothin,” the one Chris didn’t know said petulantly. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?”  
  
Chris turned his gaze on the boy. Somewhere between boy and man, dark red hair, small and skinny and wearing homespun. He had the look and accent of an easterner, with a small lilt to his voice Chris couldn’t place.  
  
“Maybe,” Chris said, answering the boy’s sarcastic question. “Depends on what you’re up to. Homer?” Chris asked, honing in on the boy he knew to be generally well behaved and respectful.  
  
“We were just talking, Mr. Larabee,” he said, shifting around and not meeting Chris’ eyes.  
  
He knew his reaction was extreme for the situation and tried to control his breathing. Something about running into this little gang of bored kids was setting off his instincts, even though he knew they were harmless.  
  
He stared at the boy and it didn’t take but a minute for him to confess.  
  
“We weren’t really going to do it,” he said, hanging his head. “We was just talking about ways maybe we could.”  
  
Chris didn’t ask, ‘do what?’ confident the confession would come.  
  
“Shut up!” the strange kid hissed and Chris turned to him.  
  
“Name?” Chris asked.  
  
A slight stutter came out of the boy’s mouth when he met Chris’ eyes, but he answered. “Jimmy Dowd.”  
  
Chris didn’t recognize the name, but he wasn’t familiar with all the new homesteaders in the area. Boy had to be from an outlying farm or ranch, the way he was dressed.  
  
“Go on home, all of you,” Chris said, sure they really weren’t up to anything criminal. It was probably nothing more than a plot to steal a pie or some other such boyhood nonsense. He didn’t like the hostility he felt toward them, knew it was overblown and knew he had to get away from them.  
  
He watched as they scattered, giving each other looks. They’d meet up again as soon as he was out of sight, he knew.  
  
Nearly afternoon and he went to the boardinghouse, hoping he’d find something to eat that he could keep down.  
  
JD and Buck were already there and before he was halfway through the door, Buck said, “Ezra’s watching the prisoners.”  
  
He didn’t answer, but he did take a seat at their table, instead of sitting alone like he planned. He had to ease up, he *knew* that. He didn’t like the feelings churning around in him; he didn’t like that Buck knew something was wrong with him; he didn’t like the thoughts consuming him since he came to, but he didn’t know what to do about any of it.   
  
“You headed out to your place?” Buck asked around a mouthful of food. “You should take some time away, see to Vin,” Buck told him once he’d swallowed.   
  
He didn’t need Buck’s advice, even though he knew Buck was right. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want him butting in. He knew Buck was telling him he needed to see to himself as well, but Buck knew better than to say those words to him.  
  
“You going out today, JD?” Chris asked.  
  
JD nodded. “I’ll take my shift at the jail tonight,” he said, watching Chris a little closer than he normally did.  
  
Hell, did they all know he’d gone a little crazy? The way JD looked at him, he was sure they all did. Probably been talking about him behind his back, too. That thought pissed him off and he turned his attention to his food. When it first arrived at the table, he thought he’d eat it all, but his appetite disappeared again. He downed his coffee in one sip and pushed back from the table. He hefted his shotgun under his arm and nodded to them, then left without a word.  
  
He knew after he left, they’d talk about him. Only way to stop it was to act normal again. Holding a razor to Buck’s throat again might feel good, but it wouldn’t shut his mouth. Even if Buck and JD were talking about him because they cared about him, it still bothered him.  
  
He made a little circuit around town before settling into his seat in front of the jail. He wished Vin was there, in his normal spot, but he was being selfish, he knew. He still felt like shit but he’d work through it. He had things to do.  
  
He spotted the strange kid again, this time, sitting on the step in front of the Potter’s store. Boy was likely to find trouble, Chris knew. He’d have to keep an eye on him.  
  
He kept watch on the town, shotgun at the ready, for most of the afternoon. He watched all the strangers, but he didn’t know what he was looking for. Only that he expected trouble, but he didn’t have any idea where it might come from or what form it might take.  
  
He broke up a fight between a couple of cowhands and added them to the jail population, then took up watch again. JD came to see him before he headed out to bring Vin food.   
  
He didn’t have any message for Vin except that he wouldn’t be out that day. He had a town to watch.  
  
*****  
  
Morning came before Chris even knew it was night. Had he really slept since before dinner? He couldn’t remember his dreams, but he knew they featured death and mayhem. He hadn’t had such disturbing dreams in years. Even though he’d been in countless gunfights and more than one tight predicament since he’d come home to find his family murdered, he hadn’t felt so unsettled about anything else since.  
  
Damn. He considered a bath and shave but decided against it. He could go a couple more days before he looked too much like the cowboy Vin called him. He studied his face in the looking glass that sat on his dresser. Almost considered smashing it after staring at himself for a minute but got control over the urge. Skipping breakfast, he took his coffee out to his chair and sat watch. Even though he didn’t know what he was watching for, he knew he watched for something.  
  
Midmorning, Buck took Vin’s seat and settled in with a big sigh.  
  
He knew Buck wouldn’t be able to keep his own council and the longing for Vin to be the one sitting in that spot hit him hard.  
  
“They won’t come here, Chris,” Buck said and Chris knew Buck knew what the problem with him was, even if Chris didn’t. He wasn’t completely sure he wanted to know what Buck knew.  
  
Chris didn’t answer and Buck took up watching the town with him. Kept real quiet, for him anyway.  
  
“Want me to take a stroll around town?” Buck asked.  
  
Chris shook his head, then got to his feet. “I’ll do it,” he said as he hefted his shotgun. “Keep an eye on the jail.”  
  
Buck nodded to him and Chris set off on his rounds. He varied his route; it wouldn’t do any good if people knew where and when to expect him.  
  
Things seemed quiet and Chris thought about what he should take out to his place on his trip out there that afternoon. Maybe he’d stay a couple of days. He couldn’t let Vin know how worried about him he was. He had confidence in Vin, knew he could watch out for himself; he’d been doing it long enough, but he figured out his unsettled feelings had to do with Vin. It wouldn’t be coddling to spend a few days out there with him.  
  
He heard a gun cock, not twenty feet away and he hurried to the small side street just in front of him. He held his shotgun at the ready, prepared for whatever he might come across.  
  
“I ought to shoot you, you little bastard.”  
  
Chris stood at the mouth of the street, watching and deciding what to do. Another ranch-hand, one he’d just let out of jail that morning, held a gun on the kid Chris kept running into.  
  
“I wasn’t stealing, Mister,” the kid said, pleading at the man holding the gun on him.  
  
“Sure looked like it to me,” he said as he held his gun steady, right at the kid’s head. “Horse thieves get hung, boy, and I got a right to shoot you for trying to steal my horse.”  
  
The kid shook a little and Chris had a feeling the man would really shoot him.  
  
“Put the gun down,” Chris said and both of them jumped at his unexpected presence.  
  
“I wasn’t stealing his horse,” the boy nearly yelled, tears threatening to fall.  
  
“You was stealing something,” the cowboy said.  
  
“I said lower your gun,” Chris ordered, steel in his voice. “We don’t shoot anyone in cold blood in this town.”  
  
As soon as the cowboy lowered his gun, the kid darted behind Chris’ back.   
  
“Go home,” Chris told the man, nodding at his tacked horse.  
  
“I see that bastard again, he’ll get a whoopin’,” the man grated out and Chris shook his head.   
  
“I’ll take care of it. If you don’t want to be my guest again, you’ll leave,” Chris said, satisfied when the cowboy mounted up and rode out. He turned so he could see the kid, but the kid wasn’t contrite, like Chris expected him to be. He had his arms crossed over his chest and looked like he was pouting. Chris’ head started pounding again and he figured he’d let Buck handle this mess.   
  
*****  
  
“Hold still,” Chris ordered the kid clinging to him. He should have made the boy walk, but it was a long ride out to his family’s homestead and Chris wanted to get rid of the kid and get to his place as quick as possible. The boy’s home was on the same road as his place, but about five miles further out. He suddenly wished he’d given this chore to Buck, but since he was headed that way, he decided to see the kid home.  
  
“You can make me go there, but I’m not staying,” the kid said as he squirmed some more. “I hate this place!”  
  
Chris didn’t really care the boy hated his home. It wasn’t his place to care. But it *was* his place to keep the peace in Four Corners and this kid had a knack for finding trouble.   
  
“How much further?” Chris asked him.  
  
“I didn’t think you talked.”  
  
The boy talked enough for both of them. He spied smoke in the distance and kicked Pony into a trot. He couldn’t get rid of this kid fast enough. “Hold on,” he ordered and tapped Pony into a canter. Sooner he got this chore done, the sooner he could relax with Vin in front of a fire.  
  
He could see the homestead in the distance now; the house wasn’t much bigger than his own, and goats and chickens lived in the front yard. Two small girls chased chickens around and Chris slowed Pony as he approached the fence line. Two shadows raced in his peripheral vision; whatever they were, they were huge and coming at him fast.   
  
He had his shotgun out and raised, ready to fire when the kid crashed to the ground and threw himself in front of the creatures.  
  
“Don’t shoot!” the kid shouted and Chris managed to stop his finger from pulling the trigger. The dogs barked and growled and the kid tried to call them off, but they were the biggest damn dogs Chris had ever seen in his life. They were taller than ponies, but skinny. They had wiry fir, and lots of it. He wasn’t sure they really were dogs, but they barked like dogs.  
  
“Seamus!”  
  
Chris took his eyes off the beasts, but held his gun at the ready, both barrels cocked. A man rushed toward him and a woman, a red-headed toddler on her hip, stood in the doorway. She called the girls to her in a language Chris didn’t understand and they darted to her and hid behind her skirts.  
  
“Seamus O’Dowd,” the man roared, “you little ruffian, you had your mother worried sick!”  
  
Chris considered dismounting to get between the rapidly approaching man and the kid, but the dogs guarding the boy still snarled at him. If the boy ran because of the man, he’d have to come up with a new solution. He wouldn’t leave the kid with a pa who beat him. It looked like the kid had a good reason for running.  
  
He was ready to get down, the dogs be damned, when the man pulled the boy to his feet and gave him a hard shake.   
  
“Just where the hell have you been? You took ten years off your dear mother’s life!”   
  
Chris had his mouth open, ready to tell the man to keep his hands off the boy, but instead of backhanding him, like Chris expected him to do, he pulled the boy into a hug.  
  
“Ye nearly worried your da to death too, you little scalawag. Now go see what yer mother has for ye.” He gave the kid a little shove and a swat to the backside before turning to Chris. “I want to thank ye for bringing me boy home. Me and the missus have been worried sick over him.”  
  
Chris nodded to him, then nodded toward the dogs.  
  
O’Dowd said something in that strange language and the dogs headed to the house.  
  
“Ceallach O’Dowd,” the man said, extending a hand up to Chris on his horse. “Please stay and have a meal. I want to thank ye proper for bringing home the boy.”  
  
Chris shook his head, ready to refuse, but getting off his horse for a time sounded like a good idea. He had a few hours before dark.  
  
“Chris Larabee,” Chris said once he’d dismounted.  
  
O‘Dowd cocked his head to the side. “Of the Kilkenny Larabees?” he asked.  
  
“Of the Indiana Larabees,” Chris said with a shrug.  
  
“Aye, but ye have the look of the Kilkenny Larabees,” O’Dowd said as he gestured toward the house. “Are ye from the town? I haven’t been there but once in the six months since we homesteaded the place. But the sheriff stopped by a few weeks back. He’s a nice Irish lad as well.”  
  
While O’Dowd was probably at least as old as Chris, possibly older, Chris didn’t figure the man should be calling him a lad. “I work for the judge. I keep the peace in Four Corners.”  
  
O‘Dowd stopped in his tracks and faced Chris, all humor gone from him. “What has the boy done? I don’t have much money, but I’ll pay any fine or damage he’s done.”  
  
Chris studied the homesteader a little more closely. He had the look of many of the men in Chris’ family. Medium height, red-blond hair, a thin build and skin ruddy from the sun. He was dead serious about paying any fines and Chris bit back a sigh. He knew the man didn’t have two nickels to rub together.  
  
“No fines. But a boy that age shouldn’t be in town alone. He nearly found a bullet with his name on it.”  
  
“Aye, the boy does find trouble. But he misses Boston and it’s hard to keep him here. I’m sorry for any troubles he’s caused ye.” The man turned toward the house and bellowed, “Seamus!”  
  
The boy darted out and came to a stop in front of the men. “I told you I’m called Jimmy now.”  
  
“Take care of Mr. Larabee’s horse, then see what chores your mother needs done. If you thought you worked hard before, you’re going to think you’re living in the English Workhouse for the next fortnight!”  
  
“Yes, da,” the boy said, seemingly resigned to his fate as he took Pony’s reigns.  
  
“Tch. He’s the oldest of eight. Six girls then another boy.” The man gestured toward the house and Chris headed that way. “I know I ask a lot of the boy, but it’s a hard life on all of us and he’s a part of this family. Fourteen is not an easy age to be, from what I remember.” O’Dowd started laughing then, a heart-felt, true laugh. “When I was that age, the sheriff brought me home to me ma and da a time or two.” His bright blue eyes twinkled and his smile widened. “But don’t tell the boy that, Mr. Larabee.”  
  
Chris followed him toward the house, taking in the place as he walked. It wasn’t much to speak of, but the family had gotten off to a good start. Everything was neat and orderly, small outbuildings scattered in a semi-circle across from the house. The chickens and goats shared a pen and there was a small corral, holding a mule and an old horse. Two other lean-to buildings, with chicken wire strung around them, completed the picture.   
  
“It’s not much, I know, but you should have seen it six months ago,” O’Dowd said with a shrug. “I thought I might be getting a little long in the tooth to start over, but after spending the last fifteen years in Boston, I’d work night and day for the rest of my life to give them a better future.”  
  
Chris glanced over to where O’Dowd gestured, spying small girls peeking through the windows. Seamus, or Jimmy, returned after turning Pony loose in the coral and stood silently with the men. Chris didn’t know what he’d expected when he decided to bring the boy home, but this sure wasn’t it.  
  
Images hit him again; small bodies, murdered, skinned. Dolls scattered in the destruction. He could *smell* the blood and fear in the air and he nearly forgot where he was; he was trapped seeing the homesteaders killed at the weigh station. He didn’t know how much time passed, O’Dowd’s cheerful, lilting voice snapping him from the past.  
  
“Off with ye to the north field. There’s a fence that needs mending. Take Mairín  
with you. She‘s been doing your chores and she knows what needs to be done.”  
  
The boy glanced at Chris, then his father again before sighing out, “yes, da,” and heading toward the house.  
  
“Now, Mr. Larabee, would ye be liking a drink or a tour of the place?”  
  
He’d take the drink. He tired easily still and the ride, then the roaring beasts, had taken their toll on him.   
  
“Leannán, bring the Connemara,“ O’Dowd called out in the direction of the house, then headed to a small circle of chairs under the trees. “It’s a bit small in the house,” he said as he sat in the largest of the chairs and gestured for Chris to join him.  
  
“I don’t want to keep you from your chores,” Chris said as second thoughts about staying had him ready to turn around and leave.  
  
“Ah, They’ll still be there when we are done,” O’Dowd said and Chris took a seat.  
  
The woman, carrying the toddler and followed by a pack of girls in various sizes, joined them with a tray and placed it on the small, rough-hewn table.   
  
“This is my wife, Bríghid, and these are my daughters, Ruadhán, Nóirín, Caoilfhionn, Caitlín, Aoibhinn, and Mairín. You’ve already met Seamus, and the tyke is Caoimhín.”  
  
Chris took off his hat and nodded to the gathered family. Even if he hadn’t been brained recently, he’d never remember one of the names, let alone all of them.  
  
“Ye poor man,” the woman gasped as Chris removed his hat, reminding him how bad he looked.  
  
“He got shot, ma. He’s the law in town and him and his gang killed a whole gang of outlaws even the Army couldn’t get!”  
  
“Get on to your chores, boy,” O’Dowd said, stopping the kid from continuing. “And wait for ye sister!”  
  
Chris heard his own name, the word gunslinger and not much else as the boy led his sister off into the fields.  
  
The woman handed the toddler to one of the girls and pointed toward the house. Once the herd left, she turned to Chris, moisture in her eyes. “I want to thank ye again for bringing him home. And with you injured besides. I’ll bring lunch,” she said with one last look at Chris before she followed the children to the house.  
  
“Ah, ye’ve made a friend for life with the Missus, Mr. Larabee. She’s been crying over the boy since he disappeared. She’d have been combing the countryside for him herself if she didn’t have seven others to see to.”  
  
“You’ve got quite a pack there,” Chris said, not knowing what else to say.  
  
“Aye, the lot of them are good bairns, even the boy. He‘s city raised and at his age, he‘s not happy to be here in the middle of nowhere.” O’Dowd poured them each a glass from the bottle his wife left and handed one to Chris. “I got this in Boston, in exchange for one of me pups before I left. It’s the first bottle out of my last case of good Irish Whiskey. The Scots will swear up and down they make the best whiskey, but we Irish know better. Sláinte chugat,” O’Dowd said as he raised his glass in the air.  
  
Chris followed suit, then tasted the drink. Man had a point. It had to be about the finest whiskey Chris ever tasted.   
  
“I haven’t had a man to talk to in months,” O’Dowd said, smiling, as he filled their glasses. “The boy isn’t the only one starved for company. The Missus has all the girls, but I think she misses adult women.”  
  
Chris didn’t know what to say, so instead he sipped on his whiskey and nodded to what O’Dowd said. O’Dowd kept up the conversation for both of them, explaining why they left Boston, how they got to the New Mexico territory, about his life in Ireland and the famine that caused him to emigrate.  
  
It was actually an interesting story and Chris found the whiskey going down smooth and the company unexpectedly welcome. Hearing about the trials and tribulations of an Easterner turned homesteader and his stories of the old country had Chris remembering his own homesteading days and for a brief time, forgetting his troubles. He wondered briefly if Adam would be chomping at the bit, the oldest of a pack of children, if his life had been different. He pushed the thought aside when it threatened to send his mood south.  
  
But it passed quickly; O’Dowd was good company. The O’Dowd’s were regular folk, trying to carve out a life in a new land. Like a lot of people moving west. And like most of them, all they wanted was a better life for their families than the one they faced where they came from. Chris paid more attention to the family’s stories than his own past and found the afternoon passing quickly.  
  
“I’m guessing you men are hungry,” Mrs. O’Dowd said as she approached carrying a tray. “I hope he isn’t talking your ear off, Mr. Larabee. He gabs like the Irishman he is and if you’ll let him, he’ll tell stories all day and night.”  
  
“No ma’am,” Chris said as he accepted the bowl she held out to him. The stew was the first thing he’d been able to smell in weeks and his mouth watered over it. She handed him a hunk of rough, dense bread and he took it with a smile he hoped was friendly.  
  
“Ye poor man,” she said again as she looked at his face.   
  
He was sure he made quite a sight with the side of his head still black from the pooled blood. At least the swelling was nearly gone; he would have frightened her but good if she saw him at his worst.  
  
“Do ye have someone looking out for ye?” She asked, obviously fishing.  
  
“There’s a healer in town, ma’am,” Chris said. He wanted to dig into the food, but he didn’t want to be impolite. He wasn’t normally one to consider his manners in front of a stranger, but he was a guest in their home, even if he didn’t know how he ended up there.  
  
“Are ye by any chance a Catholic, Mr. Larabee?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.  
  
O’Dowd burst out laughing around the bread in his mouth and shook his head. He swallowed the bread and nearly couldn’t talk, he was laughing so hard. “She asks every man between sixteen and forty that question. It’s too soon to be worried about marrying off the girls, Leannán.”  
  
Chris had to laugh too. Especially at Mrs O’Dowd’s expression.   
  
“It’s never too early to think about their future,” she said, just a touch indignant.  
  
“You won’t have any problem marrying them off, ma’am,” Chris said, finally tasting the stew. He swallowed quickly before saying, “You’ll have your choice of good, decent men for them; women are still fairly scarce in these parts.”  
  
“Tch, they’re too young for that nonsense,” O’Dowd said as he continued eating.   
  
Chris followed suit and the stew and fresh bread went down better than anything had in weeks. O’Dowd poured him more whiskey and he gladly accepted. Mrs. O’Dowd took a seat with the men and kept their bowls full and the bread coming.   
  
She shared stories of their lives in Boston as well, the two of them keeping the conversation flowing with little help from Chris. The normalcy nearly threw him off balance, compared to the way he’d felt for too long. He felt like he’d stepped into a world he didn’t belong in anymore.  
  
“How about that tour now?” O’Dowd asked when they’d had their fill and even though Chris felt lazier than a well-fed wolf, he nodded.   
  
It was about time he started home, the afternoon disappearing almost without him noticing. He thought about offering to buy some of Mrs O’Dowd’s bread; Vin would love it, but he knew they wouldn’t accept his money and he wasn’t taking food from the childrens’ plates.  
  
He glanced toward the house and little faces peeked from the windows and doorway, watching the adults. He smiled at them, and shook his head when two of the girls smiled back and the others ducked their heads back inside.  
  
“I have something to show ye, Mr. Larabee,” O’Dowd said as he stood and stretched.   
  
Chris would take the tour and then bow out; he’d already spent too much time there. But something kept him and he couldn’t name what it was. Maybe on the ride home, he’d be able to make sense of it.  
  
He followed O’Dowd to one of the lean-tos and stepped over the fence after him. The whiskey and food had him moving slow, fighting to keep his balance with one arm in a sling and when O’Dowd grabbed his upper arm to help him over, he didn’t shrug him off or even get irritated. The warmth filling his belly felt too good and the relaxed feeling from an afternoon of normal visiting was almost foreign to him these days.  
  
“Over here,” O’Dowd called as he stepped into the darkness. “All the wee beasties are sleeping,” he said, his voice filled with pride.  
  
Chris took his time looking, not quite sure what he was actually seeing. Fur. Lots of it. All different colors. Long, knobby legs and tails twined together. Heavy breathing and little snorts. What in the world?  
  
“Me da and his da and his before him, and all the generations back, were gamekeepers for the Chief in our village. What you’re looking at is history, Mr. Larbaee,” O’Dowd said, his voice still full of pride.   
  
Chris still wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but he took his time, trying to make out distinct animals in the pile.   
  
“I brought the granddam of the bitch with me from Ireland and traded pups for the sire of this litter. That was him and his get that met you at the fence. Most of the dogs were dying in the famine as well as the people. Less than a century ago, only chiefs could keep the cu, but times have changed.”  
  
He figured out they were dogs, or puppies, about the same time O’Dowd told him so. He was still trying to figure out ‘cu’ when O’Dowd stepped over to the pile and hefted one of them in his arms. It’s head lolled to the side and O’Dowd laughed at the pup. “Lazy buggers after they’ve had their fill. I feel the same way after eating one of the missus’ meals.”  
  
Chris didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen puppies like these and they weren’t anything like pups he was used to. “How old are they?” he asked after he figured he spent enough time admiring them.  
  
“Ten weeks and growing fast.”  
  
“How many are stacked in there?” He couldn’t make heads or tails out of the pile.  
  
“Nine of the thirteen survived,” O’Dowd said as he set the pup back down in the pile.  
  
“That’s a lot of dogs,” Chris said, unease taking over for curiosity. The size these things got, nine of them would be a problem.  
  
“Aye,” O’Dowd said as he gestured for Chris to step over the fence and follow him. “I figured to sell them, but I can‘t get to a city and people around here don‘t know enough about them to pay for them. I’m afraid I’ll have to put all but two of them down. ”   
  
Probably so, Chris figured. A pack like that would be a real danger, especially if they went wild. Unease, his constant companion over the past weeks, fought it’s way back to the surface as Chris followed O’Dowd on the rest of the tour of his homestead.  
  
*****  
  
“Chris coming in,” Chris shouted toward his house as he rode into the yard. If Vin didn’t come out, he’d go in and get him before their company arrived. He left Pony tied out front. He needed to give Vin warning they were about to have company, the way he’d taken to running around naked.  
  
Vin shuffled out onto the porch, moving better than he’d been the last time Chris saw him, two days before, and with a quilt wrapped around his shoulders. Bare skin peeked though the folds in the quilt.  
  
“Company coming,” Chris said as he stepped onto the porch. “You can come out and meet them or you can stay inside.”  
  
“Company?”   
  
“Some folks I met today. They live down the road a piece.”  
  
“You makin friends, cowboy?” Vin asked, head tilted to the side.  
  
Chris wanted to respond just as sarcastically, but the company wasn’t far behind. “If you’re staying out, you best get some clothes on.”  
  
“They know I’m here?” Vin asked.  
  
“Yeah, but they know you’ve been hurt, so they won’t be offended if you don’t feel up to meeting them.”  
  
Vin looked away, thinking, Chris knew, and he waited him out.  
  
“As much as I’d like to meet someone you didn’t want to shoot on sight, I think I’ll stay in,” Vin said when he met Chris’ eyes again. “I ain’t up to meeting anyone right now.”  
  
It was what he expected; Vin could meet the O’Dowd’s another time. He spared a small smile and nodded to Vin. “You go in and rest and we’ll eat after they leave. They won’t be here long, just bringing something I couldn’t carry on my horse.”  
  
“What is it, Cowboy,” Vin asked, a spark of interest lighting up his face.  
  
“It’s a surprise,” Chris said, grinning bigger. “Now go on in before *they* get a surprise, seeing you with nothing on but that quilt.”  
  
“Missed you, Chris,” Vin said softly before he turned around and went back inside.  
  
Chris nodded to Vin then got to untacking Pony and brushing him out. It would pass the time until his delivery came. He sure hoped he wasn’t making a mistake, but he’d find out soon enough.  
  
Less than fifteen minutes later, a cloud of dust, signaling the wagon’s arrival kicked up in the distance. He grabbed for his shotgun, just in case, but quickly lowered it when he recognized O’Dowd driving.  
  
“We’re neighbors,” O’Dowd called out in greeting as he pulled his wagon to a stop.   
  
“Closest ones,” Chris said in return. He met O’Dowd and the boy at the side of the wagon and looked in. He met O’Dowd’s eyes and raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
“Ah, the beasties are too young to hunt and they eat more than ye can possibly imagine. She’ll help with keeping them fed until they can catch their own food.”  
  
O’Dowd hadn’t mentioned the additional livestock and Chris knew he would have turned down the nanny goat if offered. It was probably a good thing O’Dowd hadn’t said anything.  
  
“Get them unloaded, Jimmy,” O’Dowd called out and the boy hopped to, unloading both pups and the goat pretty quick. “He wants to be American, not Irish and I suppose that’s to be expected,” O’Dowd said with a shrug. “We best be on our way if we’re to be home before dark. The Missus sent some bread. She said you’re too skinny. She’s always after me the same. It would serve her right if I became fat as a Duke,” he said, his eyes twinkling.  
  
“I appreciate you bringing them over,” Chris said as he extended his left hand to shake.  
  
“If I thought you’d take it, I’d offer you more for seeing to the boy. Me and the Missus are in your debt,” O’Dowd said as he shook Chris’ hand.  
  
Chris ignored the sentiment, declarations like that had a way of making him uncomfortable. “I know someone who might be able to help you sell some of the pups. He’ll fleece you, but you’ll get some money out of the bargain and you won’t have to shoot any of them.”  
  
“Truly?” O’Dowd asked, stopping as he was about to climb into the wagon.  
  
“His name’s Standish and he’s one of my men. You’d best hide your good whiskey when he comes out.”  
  
“Aye, he’s an Englishmen then?”  
  
“Nah,” Chris said, matching O’Dowd’s smile. “A gambler.”  
  
“He’d be willing to come out?”  
  
“If there’s profit to be had, Ezra would ride into hell to find it. He’ll do right by you, even though he’ll keep most of the money.”  
  
“If it saves me from having to shoot any of them, he can have all of the money,” O’Dowd said as he climbed into the wagon.  
  
Chris shook his head. “Don’t tell Ezra that. Expect him tomorrow or the day after.”  
  
“Bye, Mr. Larabee,” Jimmy called out as his father flicked the reins and the mule started to pull out.  
  
“Don’t you run off again, you hear,” Chris said. “I won’t be happy if I have to comb the countryside for you.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the boy said and Chris gave him a nod. He’d stay put for now. Hell, Chris ran more than once when he was that age. Farm life wasn’t all that exciting and it was a hell of a lot of hard work. Chris learned soon enough that home had it’s attractions, though, like home cooked food and people you could count on. Jimmy O’Dowd would learn that soon enough, too.  
  
Chris watched the pups explore their new home and waited for Vin to come out. He knew it wouldn’t be long.  
  
“Damn, Chris,” Vin said as he stepped through the door. “You really did make a friend!”  
  
“That so hard to believe?” Chris asked.  
  
Vin gave him a hard look and Chris laughed. Damn, he felt better than he had in a long time.  
  
He waited for Vin to notice the new additions, helping him along by making a point of looking at them. Two big boned males. One dun colored with a black face and the other a light red, also with a black face.   
  
It didn’t take Vin long to comment. “What the hell are those?” he asked, his face scrunched up like he was trying to figure something out.  
  
“And here I thought I was the one who got brained. Haven’t you ever seen puppies before?” Chris couldn’t help grinning at the look on Vin’s face.   
  
“I see a goat and two of the damn ugliest creatures I ever seen. Ain’t puppies supposed to be cute? And little? Them two are almost as big as the goat!”  
  
“You should have seen their sire,” Chris said with a smile. No matter the words coming out of his mouth, Vin’s grin was huge. He liked his gift. Chris almost lost his smile at the thought. He’d never given Vin a gift before and didn’t think about how that part would go over. But Vin didn’t seem to notice.  
  
“What are their names?” Vin asked as he slowly stepped down from the porch.  
  
“Don’t got names yet,” Chris said, moving to help Vin down. Vin’s back was still messed up bad, and realizing that nearly had Chris loosing his smile.  
  
“What are we gonna do with two puppies?” Vin asked, looking from the pups, who had started wandering away, to Chris and back again.  
  
“They’ll make good watchdogs. O’Dowd told me stories about this kind of dog. They hunted wolves, where they’re from. They’ll keep the coyotes away. Real good at deer hunting, too,“ Chris said with a shrug. “They got a real long history. I’ll tell you the stories when we get in bed tonight.”  
  
“You’re staying?” Vin asked, eyes a little brighter than they’d been before the news.  
  
“My ass hurts and my head’s starting to hurt, so yeah, I’m staying,” Chris said as he picked up the basket O’Dowd left behind. A tied burlap sugar bag sat next to it and after he inspected the bread, finding a jar of jam and wrapped butter to go with it, he picked up the bag.  
  
“What’s in there?” Vin asked, over his shoulder.  
  
Vin still moved quiet, even if he moved slow. Chris opened the bags to find chopped up rabbits, minus the skins. “Dogs’ dinner,” Chris said.  
  
“Well, let’s get ‘em in and get ‘em fed,” Vin said, smiling at him. “And I want to get my hands on that jam.”  
  
“Wait. You want to bring them *in*?”  
  
“Of course,” Vin said, looking at him like he was loco. “They’re babies. Even I kin see that. Hell, they’re still wobbly on them lumpy legs.”  
  
“What about the goat. Coyotes might come and get it without the dogs to watch it.”  
  
“Chris, them dogs ain’t gonna watch anything until they’re older.”  
  
Chris hadn’t thought of that. The dogs, he’d let in the house, if that’s what Vin wanted, but the goat was staying outside and that’s all there was to it.  
  
Vin whistled to the dogs and pulled a piece of rabbit out of the bag. Surprisingly, they came running, and what a sight it was. Their legs were too big for their bodies and so were their heads. Vin was right, they were downright ugly! But Vin didn’t seem to mind. And they’d grow into handsome animals if their sire was anything to judge by.  
  
“We can tether the goat in the coral with the horses. Peso won’t let coyotes get her,” Vin said as he showed the pups the rabbit parts.   
  
“I suppose you want me to do it?” Chris asked, grinning at Vin. He didn’t mind, but he wanted things clear.  
  
“This was all your idea, Larabee,” Vin said, turning his back on Chris and trying to get the pups to follow him.   
  
Chris watched him go, pleased Vin seemed to take a liking to his present and set out getting the nanny goat bedded down. He’d leave it up to Vin to get that ornery horse of his corralled.  
  
*****  
  
Chris finished brushing out Peso, then gave the horse a whack on the hindquarters, letting him know he was free to go about his business. When Vin hadn’t come out, he decided to round up Peso and get him in with Pony and the nanny goat. The horse had been unexpectedly docile; he missed his herd, Chris knew. Chris missed his own herd, he realized as he watched Pony and Peso greet each other.  
  
He made sure they didn’t harass the goat before he got set to go in for the night. He didn’t know what came over him the past few hours. Making friends and bringing home puppies? But the ride home had given him time to think. For once it hadn’t made his head hurt. He realized during the ride that meeting people like the O’Dowds had been good for him.   
  
They and people like them were the reason he’d taken to watching over his town like a lone sentry. He knew what happened to families only looking to make lives for themselves when confronted with people like the gang the Seven chased down; they got killed. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Just like it wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair that *his* family got murdered. Sometimes he forgot people like the O’Dowd’s and the Potters and even the Conklins outnumbered the outlaws by a wide margin.   
  
He might not have been able to stop his *own* family’s deaths, but he’d do what he could to stop more. And barring that, he’d hunt down and kill the people who visited destruction on people only wanting to live their lives. Once upon a time, he’d been one of them, but his fate swerved and for a time, he swerved too. But making a new life in Four Corners changed him, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself or anyone else.  
  
Getting caught up in a town hadn’t been any part of his plan. Hell, what plan, he laughed at himself. His only plan was no plan at all, content to wander around looking for his family’s killers and drinking himself into a stupor when he couldn’t take the loneliness and guilt for another second. Took him a long time to work off his hatred, but the minute he met Vin’s eyes across a dusty street and saved Nathan from a neck-stretching party, all that had changed. And someone tried to take all that away from him again. He’d finally figured out where his rage came from, recently, but it sure as hell didn’t make him feel any better.   
  
And who the hell wasn’t going to come here? Buck’s words finally sunk through his hard head, maybe he dismissed Buck too easy sometimes. As far as he knew, they’d taken out the gang they chased. Wasn’t that what Nathan told him when he came to? Vin would know, but how to ask without telling Vin he didn’t remember anything past their break at the spring? Or didn’t remember anything but things he knew couldn’t have happened.  
  
“Larabee?”   
  
The call from inside had him shaking his head and seeing the livestock again, when all he’d been seeing was his own thoughts.  
  
“You comin in or you gonna stand on the porch all night?” Vin asked as he stepped into the doorway, question on his face and in his eyes.  
  
“I’m coming in,” Chris said, taking one last look around. He hefted his gun, bringing it in with him and joined Vin inside the shack.  
  
*****

 

  
“So you gonna tell me bedtime stories?” Vin asked as Chris stripped down to his long handles. Vin’s lopsided grin was about the prettiest thing he’d seen in weeks. Chris thought his color might look a little better and he hadn’t fallen asleep on him once. A big improvement, but still coming too slow for his liking.  
  
He motioned for Vin to scoot over and he did, sliding further toward the wall, still on his belly. Chris sat with his back to the wall and waited for Vin to move closer to him again. He didn’t have long to wait, Vin resting his head on Chris’ thigh.  
  
Chris carded through Vin’s hair, thinking about how a bath might do both of them some good. Maybe in the morning. He didn’t plan on riding out at first light this time.  
  
“Still can’t sit?” Chris asked him. He hadn’t seen Vin sitting even once. He laid on his belly or stood hipshot, trying to find a position that wouldn’t hurt his back, or aggravate the wounds on his thigh and balls.  
  
“Nope,” Vin said, shaking his head a little. “Getting mighty tired of it too. Everything’s healing up good though, even if the scabs are itchin me to distraction.” Vin turned his head so he could look at Chris’ face. “Wanna look?” Vin asked, mischief written all over his expression.  
  
“You get ornery if I pass?” Chris answered after a minute’s thought.   
  
Vin turned his head so his cheek rested back on Chris’ thigh. “Nah, I don’t want to look neither.”   
  
Chris went back to carding through Vin’s hair, smiling a little when Vin let out a gusty sigh. Looked like someone was settling in for the night.   
  
“Ya know,” Vin said, “them pups are kind of cute, in an ugly sorta way.”  
  
Chris looked at the puppies, curled up on *his* blanket and gave Vin a soft smack to the back of his head. “Real cute on my good blanket.”  
  
“I couldn’t give ‘em Nettie’s quilt and they might get a chill on the floor. They’re babies, you know.”  
  
He knew; Vin kept reminding him. “They’ll grow,” Chris said. “Damn good watchdogs once they’re grown, too.”  
  
“So just how much will they grow?” Vin asked, keeping his eyes on the sleeping pups.  
  
“Full grown, I’d say they’ll be bigger than you.”  
  
“No how,” Vin said, head whipping around to meet Chris’ eyes.  
  
Chris nodded, not able to keep from smiling at the look on Vin’s face.  
  
“How are we gonna keep ‘em fed?” Vin asked, eyebrow arching, giving away his thoughts on the matter.  
  
“They’ll feed themselves. They’re real good hunters.”  
  
“Maybe when they’re grown, but they got a long way to go until they’re much use.”  
  
“Until then, they can keep you warm when I’m not here.”   
  
“Ain’t enough room in this bed for the four of us,” Vin said, chuckling at the thought.  
  
“I said when I’m not here,” Chris said, stressing the ‘not.’  
  
“Good luck.”  
  
“You’ll just have to train ‘em.”  
  
“I thought they was a present. Who gives presents that mean work? I think you need more practice at present giving, Larabee.”  
  
“That a hint, Tanner?” Chris teased.  
  
Vin shifted so he could look at Chris. “I didn’t mean it that way!”  
  
“I know, I know,” Chris said, arms raised. “I guess I didn’t think it all the way through,” he said shrugging. “I don’t want you alone out here and I need to be in town for awhile longer.”  
  
“What have you been up to in town?” Vin asked, once he’d settled back in on Chris’ thigh.  
  
“You asking, or you already know?” Chris asked, suddenly made wary by Vin’s question.  
  
Vin didn’t answer, but that was an answer.  
  
“I’ve made a few changes. What did JD tell you?” He knew Buck and JD talked about him, but their bringing Vin into it sure as hell didn’t sit right.  
  
“Not much, but I hear you have lots of company at the jail. We gonna get a raise from all them fines you been collecting?”  
  
“Funny,” Chris said, giving him another gentle tap to the back of his skull.   
  
“You been running around looking constipated and carrying that shotgun. It’s got the fellers a little worried.”  
  
“Noted,” Chris said, getting pissed all over again. They *knew* he didn’t like his business discussed.  
  
“I ain’t the only one got hurt, Chris.”  
  
“Hard to forget.”  
  
“And you ain’t the only one had to watch someone get hurt.”  
  
Okay, now Vin was going in a direction he wasn’t going in. They were not going to talk about this. He dropped his hand to the bed and thought about getting up, going somewhere Vin wouldn’t follow.   
  
“Don’t run out on me,” Vin nearly whispered.   
  
“I’m not,” Chris finally answered.  
  
“Feels like it,” Vin said, voice still tight, holding back something.  
  
“Well I’m not,” Chris said, and it came out just as harsh as he meant it to.  
  
Vin went silent again and Chris kept silent too. He started to think Vin had nodded off but he rolled over onto his back, hissing as his weight rested on his bruised back.  
  
“You mad at me?” Vin asked, staring Chris in the eye.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Seems like you are.”  
  
“Well I’m not.”  
  
Vin had that look that meant he wanted to say something, but he held back. Probably thinking on how to put the words together. Chris *wasn’t* mad at Vin; he’d figured that much out.  
  
“Chris, if I’d ‘a known I had Comanche kin still living, I would have told you. I weren’t hiding nothing. I know the fellers are probably mad at me for what them boys done and you all need to know if they come around these parts, I’ll do what needs doin. Ain‘t no question about that. Kids or not, kin or not.”  
  
It wasn’t what Chris expected to hear. It helped put some pieces together. Like why Vin wasn’t in town and why Chris reacted to the boys in town like he had. He didn’t say anything, too busy trying to grasp threads he just couldn’t hold on to.  
  
“I know we ain’t ones to talk on things too much. We ain’t like Ezra and Buck and JD. They’ll talk things through a hun’red different ways until they get it to sit right. You and me don’t. Sometimes, maybe we ought.”  
  
“No one blames you, Vin,” Chris finally said. He might not remember, but he knew that much. They were all worried over Vin, not mad at him. “And we talk as much as we need to,” he added. They just usually didn’t need to, he didn’t add.  
  
“You ain’t been yerself lately, Chris. I know I ain’t been nothing but dead weight the past few weeks.”  
  
Vin didn’t really think that, did he? After a minute of studying his face, he realized Vin really did believe that nonsense. The man nearly died, it wasn’t like he was shirking responsibility.  
  
  
“Better dead weight than dead, Vin.” There wasn’t any point trying to argue against Vin’s feelings. It was how he saw things and nothing Chris could say would change that.  
  
Vin looked away and his voice went deceptively soft. “I ain’t the only one nearly got killed, Chris, and *you* ain’t been laying around, not doing a damn thing but takin up space and wasting people’s time.”  
  
Chris sat up a little straighter and waited for Vin to meet his eyes. Took a little longer than usual, cluing Chris onto how serious this was. While he’d spent a lot of time thinking about Vin, about his health and his injuries, he hadn’t spent all that much thinking about how Vin was feeling about this whole mess.  
  
When he finally had his eyes locked with Vin’s, he said, “No one blames you, Vin. I don’t know where you got that notion, but it’s just not true.”  
  
Vin held eye contact for an uncomfortably long moment, but Chris wouldn’t try to break it. He was telling the truth and Vin would see that.  
  
Finally, Vin nodded. He kept his eyes locked with Chris’ though, finally saying, “No one blames you, neither. If’n you think you need to protect everyone all on your own, you’re wrong.”  
  
“That’s not it,” Chris said, finally breaking eye contact.  
  
“Then if ya ain’t mad at me and you don’t think yer the only thing standing between the people that mean something to you and the end of the world, what’s the problem?”  
  
Chris didn’t answer, he didn’t have an answer. The pattern on the quilt was suddenly very interesting.  
  
“I know how hard it must’ve been to watch what Shore did to me. I think it was maybe harder on you than me. When they took ya out and broke your arm, I thought they was gonna kill you. I don’t think I could’a watched ‘em to do you what all they done to me.”  
  
Chris made a point of making eye contact again. They communicated better with looks than words most times. This time it might take both. “It’s harder thinking about what I don’t remember than what I do.”  
  
Vin stared at him for a few minutes longer and Chris kept their eye contact. He’d admitted to something he’d been holding back, been worrying on, and he could see Vin’s understanding as easy as if he made a long speech.  
  
“Chris, we both know the truth is almost never as hard as the things we imagine. I’d guess this time is the same. We’re alive, we’ll both heal and that’s what’s important, ain’t it?”  
  
Chris nodded and Vin nodded back. After another long spell of talking without words, Vin let out a sigh and rolled over onto his belly again, head coming to rest on Chris’ chest after Chris laid down.  
  
“Chris, I gotta tell you, this talking thing takes a lot out of a man. Ya think we done talked enough, now?”  
  
As unexpected as the comment was, it broke the tension, just like Chris suspected Vin planned. He swept his hand down Vin’s back, keeping his touch soft. “You got that right,” he said as he closed his eyes.   
  
He was almost asleep when the finger poking his ribs and Vin’s voice nearly had him awake again. “Tomorrow,” was all he said in response.  
  
“Chris,” Vin said again.  
  
“What?” he asked, cracking open his eyes.  
  
“You might want to rethink leaving yer boots under the bed.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Ain’t a good idea to leave leather boots in reach of pups cutting teeth.”  
  
He’d nearly fallen to sleep when Vin’s voice broke through again.  
  
“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Vin said around a yawn.  
  
Vin didn’t grumble as Chris shifted, leaning down to grab hold of his boots. He tossed them to the side of the bed against the wall, out of the way down towards the foot of the bed. “Happy?” Chris asked as he settled back in.  
  
“Jist don’t wanna hear yer bitchin when you wake up to find yer boots shredded,” Vin said as he squirmed to get comfortable.  
  
He wondered again what he’d been thinking, accepting the pups, but he had a feeling it would work out in the long term. As long as they didn’t eat his boots.  
  
*****  
  
Chris watched from the shadows as the early arrivals begin to filter into the saloon. Just approaching dusk, the traffic started to pick up. It was the last day of the month, and a Friday, and mayhem would rule for a few hours. Payday for the miners, ranch-hands and other assorted men from outlying areas, the last day of the month always brought mayhem. He used to think it was fun. Him and Vin both, but this month it didn’t seem like fun. It was to be his last night in town for at least a week and only his own unease kept him there to keep watch.  
  
He’d stay for this traditionally rowdy night, then take the break he knew, and Vin confirmed, that he needed. He still felt unsettled, like he was waiting to be ambushed, and he didn’t think it would go away anytime soon. He was learning to live with it.   
He’d left Vin and the pups out at his place… their place, that morning, after spending the past three days there and the rest had helped a little. It helped his headache more than anything else, staying put for a few days.   
  
He took a long drag off his cheroot and watched some more, giving Ezra a nod when Ezra walked past and saluted him with two fingers. He watched Ezra nearly skip his way into the saloon; it was Ezra’s favorite night of the month.  
  
That put Ezra, Buck and JD in the saloon and Josiah and Nathan at the jail. Chris would watch the town. He ground out his cheroot, hefted his shotgun and started a leisurely stroll down the sidewalk.   
  
By the time midnight rolled around, Chris had jailed six men and warned another dozen. It was a typical first of the month Friday night. He was ready for it to be over. He’d stop by the saloon for a drink before bed and to make sure the crowd was under control. Most of them would be passed out drunk or with women by now.  
  
As soon as he stepped into the saloon, Buck waved him over to their table, where Buck and JD sat. Buck had a bottle in front of him and a woman on his lap while JD leaned back in his chair, only two legs of the chair on the floor. Chris stopped at the bar for a glass and joined them, giving each of them a nod.  
  
“You about to turn in?” Buck asked him.  
  
Chris nodded and checked the tables around the room. Ezra had a game going, as expected, but the rest of the place had pretty much cleared out, also as he expected.  
  
He noticed JD watching him, from the corner of his eye, but he let it pass without comment. Vin was right, he wasn’t himself lately and he knew the others had already noticed. Only way to stop it was to act normal, like he’d been telling himself. Thinking and doing were different things though, weren’t they?  
  
He downed his drink and took another. He hadn’t been drunk once since he’d been shot and he didn’t plan on getting that way now. He didn’t even want to know what a hangover plus a cracked skull felt like.  
  
JD and Buck’s conversation buzzed in his ear like horse flies and he paid about as much attention to their needling each other as he would pay the annoying insects.   
  
Raised voices from the poker table had Chris turning his sights on them. He listened, ready for the argument that inevitably came from the tables on a night like this. One of the men at the table, his back to Chris, caught his eye and Chris watched his hands.  
  
It didn’t take long for him to notice the bulge under his sleeve; he wore the same set-up Ezra wore. The raised voices grew more heated, but nobody made a move, or even shifted back from the table yet. It looked like he wouldn’t be going peaceably to his bed after all.  
  
Chris stood, taking his time about it to not draw attention to himself and left his spot without JD or Buck noticing. He moved quietly, making a slow circuit of the room to come around to stand behind the man with the hidden gun. He stayed back in the shadows, nearly against the wall, and waited to see how things would play out.  
  
Ezra won the hand and as he reached forward to scoop up his pot, gold tooth twinkling in the light, Chris heard the sound he’d been waiting for-- the release of the other gambler’s hidden weapon.  
  
He strode forward, shotgun butt on his hip, finger on the trigger. He pointed it at the stranger’s head and wished he had both hands so he could pump it; that sound always stopped a man from doing what he planned. But it was already racked so he didn’t get that satisfying effect.  
  
“Put your hands on the table. Slowly,” Chris ordered.  
  
Ezra’s smile faded as Chris held his gun to the man’s head. “The situation is well in hand, Mr. Larabee,” Ezra said, sounding bored.   
  
“Game’s over. Keep your hands on the table.”  
  
Ezra sighed and finished sweeping up the pot he’d won. He waited until the two other men playing left the table, then turned back to Chris. “While I do appreciate your concern, I was aware he had a weapon.”  
  
“Were you aware he had it pointed at your gut?”  
  
He nudged his gun a little closer to the man’s head and ordered, “You have half an hour to get your things and leave my town. I see you again and you’ll find yourself in the territorial prison.”  
  
“On what charge?” he unwisely asked and Chris’ smile grew even bigger.   
  
“Whatever one I think up,” Chris said, “but I’ll start with attempted murder.”  
  
“What?” he sputtered.  
  
“I suggest you do as he says,” Ezra sighed out. “Mr. Larabee’s limited patience has already been exceeded.” Ezra slowly pushed his chair back from the table, reached out for his bottle, then left Chris to do what he would.  
  
“Leave the gun,” Chris ordered, then waited for compliance. It didn’t take long and he ignored the look of disgust sent his way. He kept his gun trained on the would-be assassin and watched silently as he slinked out of the saloon.  
  
Chris didn’t bother joining Buck, JD and Ezra at their normal table. He lowered his gun and took a spot at the bar, back to the room, but with a good view through the looking-glass above the bar.  
  
He sipped his drink and watched them talking like a bunch of ladies at a church social. JD stood after a couple of minutes and Chris turned around as he approached.  
  
“I’ll make sure he leaves town,” JD said, standing uncomfortably in front of Chris.  
  
Chris gave him a nod and finished his drink, setting the glass back down with a thunk.  
  
“See you next week, Chris,” JD said before he left. “Tell Vin I said hi.”  
  
Chris gave him another nod and JD scurried out the door. Chris had planned on seeing the man left town himself, but it was just as well JD volunteered. He turned back to the bar, ordered another drink and downed it as he watched the rest of the place clear out. When he left, Buck and Ezra were still huddled, whispering furiously and giving Chris glances when they thought he wasn’t looking.  
  
Worse than a couple of ladies.  
  
*****  
  
He was going to kill them, or Vin, he wasn’t sure which. Okay, maybe not kill, but someone was in big trouble. Chris hefted his shorn gunbelt and tossed it onto the table. The edges were ragged where sharp puppy teeth had torn the leather in two. Someone owed him a new gunbelt.   
  
He picked up one half and stepped out onto the porch, searching the yard for Vin and his new partners in crime. He reminded himself it *was* all his idea and *he* was the one left his gunbelt within reach of those puppy teeth. Still didn’t mean he was happy about it.  
  
He spotted the two pups chasing each other in the clearing as he stepped around the corner. Vin stood watching them, holding a big stick. Chris watched, amused as the pups tried to pull the stick away from Vin. The red one got it and then the yellow one gave chase. Vin laughed at their antics and after a few minutes watching them play, Chris couldn’t help laughing either. When it was just the two of them somewhere, he always found Vin’s laugh contagious.  
  
Chris cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hungry?”  
  
Vin raised an arm to signal he was headed that way, whistling to the pups as he slowly started toward the house. Took him a couple of minutes to make the short walk, but Chris could *see* the improvement in him now. Wasn’t a few days ago, he walked so stiff it hurt Chris to watch him. Since he started moving around more than he had been, he wasn’t quite so stiff. Still slow, but better anyway.  
  
“Didn’t know you was awake,” Vin huffed out as he approached. “I know you old fellers need to nap.”  
  
“Me?” Chris asked, not sure he was hearing right. “Me?” he asked again.  
  
Vin smiled and Chris pretended to glare at him. Things had gotten better between them over the past few days. Maybe there was something to that talking thing.  
  
“You slept away the whole morning,” Vin said, little smirk in place.  
  
“And you went to bed before the sun. It’s no wonder you were up with it,” Chris said as he stepped up onto the porch. He gave Vin a minute to get up there with him. He remembered the ruined gunbelt and held it up for Vin to see it.  
  
“What’s that, cowboy?” Vin asked, tone teasing and eyes twinkling.  
  
“You know what it is, Tanner,” Chris growled out.  
  
“I done warned you about leaving leather laying around. Got no one to blame but you. What’s for lunch?”  
  
Chris was about to retort that Vin could find his own damn lunch, but a dust cloud in the road had him stepping inside to get his shotgun. He stepped back outside before the dust could be distinguished from the rider, tense and ready for whoever it might be. Most likely, it was a friend, but he was still too jumpy to take that chance.  
  
“Wonder who that is,” Vin said as he stepped next to Chris. “You expecting any of your friends with more animals?”  
  
Chris spared him a glance, not surprised to see a teasing smile on his face. Vin wasn’t worried about who it was, but Chris couldn’t share that confidence.  
  
By the time he looked back to the road, Vin said, “Buck,” and Chris rested his gun against the side of the shack.  
  
Even before Chris got brained, Vin had better eyesight than Chris did and it was another minute before he recognized man and horse.  
  
“Hope you made extra lunch,” Vin said. “Bucklin eats too much and I’m starved.”  
  
“There’s plenty of beans and bread to go around,” Chris said as he stepped down from the porch to meet Buck.  
  
“Beans and bread?” Vin nearly whined.  
  
Chris gave him an evil grin and was about to suggest he do the cooking but Buck rode up before he could say it.   
  
“Howdy, boys,” Buck called out.  
  
“Buck,” Chris said with a nod.  
  
“Well you two are looking better,” Buck said once he’d dismounted.   
  
Chris saw the pups running up behind him to investigate the stranger about the same time he heard a little chuckle out of Vin.   
  
The red one stuck a cold wet nose right into Buck’s hand and Buck nearly jumped out of his boots. Vin’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh as Buck nearly pissed himself.  
  
“What the hell are those?” Buck nearly screamed.  
  
“Ain’t you never seen puppies?” Vin asked around his laughing.  
  
“Puppies?” Buck asked, then shook his head and looked at Chris.  
  
“Buck?” Chris asked after Buck kept studying him. “There a reason you rode out here?”  
  
“Can’t a man check up on his friends?”  
  
Chris stared at him, looking for a hint for the real reason behind his visit, but Buck had turned around to study the pups some more. “Hungry,” Chris asked him and when Buck turned back around to answer him, he got nothing but a big grin out of him.  
  
“You ever known me to turn down your cooking?”  
  
“It’s canned beans and bread, ain’t no cooking involved,” Vin said, still sounding a little put out over the lunch choice.  
  
“Better than the jerky and grass you’ve tried to feed me.”   
  
He was up to something, Chris knew. He could feel it, but he’d wait to see what it was. He wanted a report about the goings on in town and Buck wouldn’t be able to keep anything from him. He’d wait for Buck to just come out with whatever was on his mind though. With Buck, he wouldn’t have long to wait.  
  
He turned out to be dead wrong. As afternoon turned into evening and Vin and Buck played with the pups while Chris relaxed with a cheroot on the porch, Buck still hadn’t gotten into the real reason for his visit.   
  
Vin joined him on the porch, leaning forward on the railing while Buck threw sticks for the pups. “Kind of look alike, don’t they?” Vin asked as he nudged Chris.  
  
“All gangly limbs and oversized head?”  
  
“All Buck’s missin’ is a long tail.”  
  
Chris glanced over at Vin and the wide smile on his face told him they were on the same page. “I can tell you it’s not *that* impressive.”  
  
“So you seen his tail then?” Vin held up his hand. “Don’t want to know, cowboy.”  
  
Chris managed a little grin. He felt too damn good not to. He’d been up and down lately, more down than up and he knew he’d be jumping at shadows and overly vigilant for a long time to come. He knew it from how he’d been after drawn-out battles during the war. He’d made it through that time, he would this one, too.   
  
For the past few years, he didn’t have anything he cared about losing; not even his own life. It was all different now and he knew himself well enough to know it was the real reason behind his behavior lately. He was sure Buck knew it, probably Vin too. And they humored him like some bad case of Soldier’s Heart. He could finally admit to himself they weren’t wrong. Still didn’t have to like it though.  
  
“Whoo-eee, them pups are fun,” Buck said as he joined them on the porch, taking Vin’s empty chair. “Take a load off, pards, you look like you’re ready to drop.”  
  
Vin turned around to lean his ass against the railing and nodded to Chris. Chris took his own chair and settled in. They were about to hear some of Buck’s unique wisdom. He’d let Buck ramble on, let him try to fix whatever he thought was wrong. Buck had earned that much, and not just because of this latest trouble.  
  
Buck surprised him by pulling a bottle out of his saddlebag instead of starting in on some long-winded advice giving. They shared the bottle with little said until dusk became dark. Buck filled them in on events in town around sips and Chris listened without giving much in return. But Buck was used to his quiet ways-- both their quiet ways now. Chris suspected he actually liked their quiet. Gave Buck the opportunity to ramble on and to be the center of attention.   
  
Vin surprised him by turning serious first.  
  
“Buck,” Vin said softly when the silence stretched out too long.  
  
Something in his tone had Chris and Buck both giving him their attention. No one bothered to light a lamp when it turned to dark and Vin was barely visible in the faint moonlight.  
  
Chris waited for Vin to go on, he wouldn’t need prompting, just some time to come out with what he wanted to say.  
  
Buck let him take his time, too, kind of surprising Chris some.  
  
“I jist want to thank you for what you done. I might not’ve seemed too grateful to ya at the time. I wouldn‘t be here if it weren‘t for you.”  
  
Chris watched with more than a little interest, wondering if Buck would shrug off Vin’s apology or stay serious.  
  
Buck dropped his chair back onto four feet with a loud thump and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re my friend, Vin.”  
  
Chris waited for him to say more but time went on with no sound between them but the creatures of the night. He could only see one side of Vin’s face, and his night vision still wasn’t what it used to be. Vin pushed off the porch rail and made his way to Buck’s chair, moving stiff after leaning for so long.   
  
“I’m wore out,” Vin said as he extended his hand to Buck. “I wouldn’t have shot you,” Vin said as he shook Buck’s hand. “Had too few friends like you to go around shootin’ ‘em.” Vin tipped his hat to both of them once he let go of Buck’s hand. “Night,” he called out as he shuffled inside. He held the door open and whistled for the pups, shutting it behind them once they followed him in.  
  
The silence he left in his wake went on until Buck cleared his throat. “That boy sure don’t say much, but he says a lot with the few words he spares, don‘t he?”  
  
Chris nodded. He hadn’t known Vin held a gun on Buck when he was hurt, but he wasn’t surprised to hear it. Wasn’t surprised Buck didn’t take it too serious, either. Or didn’t hold a grudge, at least.  
  
“Want some more?” Buck asked after a few minutes more of silence.  
  
Chris held out his hand and took the bottle, taking a small swig. He still wasn’t too anxious to combine a cracked skull with a hangover.  
  
“Why are you here, Buck,” Chris asked once he turned over the bottle. “You’re welcome here and you know it, but I know you’re not here to have a drink. No women here.”   
  
Buck let loose a big laugh and took a much bigger drink than Chris had been taking. Chris might not be drunk, but Buck was.   
  
“I got the short straw,” Buck said when he stopped laughing.  
  
It took Chris a minute to figure things out, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or to go in and go to bed, leaving Buck alone on the porch. Instead he sat still and silent, looking into the dark but seeing nothing.  
  
“Chris.” Buck didn’t say anything else, just took a big swallow from the bottle. He wiped his mouth and opened it to try again. “The changes you’re making in town might be a little much. Hell, pard, Mary and old man Conklin are singing your praises. That’s enough to let a man know things are off.”  
  
“And the rest of the boys sent you out here to have a talk with me?”   
  
“Like I said, I got the short straw.” Buck took another swig and Chris would have laughed at the look on his face. Only he was more than a little peeved at them, discussing his business.  
  
“We’re worried about you.”  
  
Chris looked away into the night and gave a tight nod, knew Buck’s eyes were on him.  
  
“You talked to Vin about any of it?” Buck asked quietly.   
  
“Short straw, all right,” Chris said in warning.   
  
“Josiah said before, ’No man’s an island.’”  
  
“That supposed to mean something?”  
  
“You got friends if you need ’em. Me, I find the best cure to what’s ailing me is to cuddle up to someone warm and soft. Alone ain’t so good at times, Chris. Even for a man like you.”  
  
He wasn’t alone. He knew that. Figured it out all on his own a few days before. He just hadn’t been where he should have been. But he’d fixed that by going home and staying there. Buck was a little late dispensing his advice. Chris realized he’d been staring at the door leading inside, leading to Vin, the same time he realized Buck watched him do it.  
  
“Or maybe not so soft,” Buck said, meeting Chris’ eyes and looking away quickly. “Go on in if you’re wore out, Chris. I’ll sleep out here. Nice night for it.”  
  
Chris nodded, and rose, not willing to say anything more. The feelings churning around inside wouldn’t let him walk away from Buck though. He might not be able to talk about them with Buck, not with anyone. He clasped Buck’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “Thanks,” he said and left things there.   
  
*****  
  
Chris didn’t bother with a lantern inside the cabin. He planned on stripping down and going to sleep. He felt the effects of the four drinks more than he normally would, but he hadn’t had anything at all to drink in so long that the small amount affected him more than it would have in the past.  
  
“You all right?” Vin asked him, startling him.  
  
“Thought you’d be sleeping,” Chris said as he got comfortable in bed. Vin faced the wall, curled into a ball, obviously not expecting Chris quite so soon. Chris climbed in beside him and settled down.  
  
“I’m worn out but I can’t sleep. Buck finally come clean with his reason for being here?”  
  
Chris reached out to Vin, taking care, but pulling him gently until Vin moved closer and Chris settled an arm over his hip. “They think I’ve lost my mind.”  
  
Vin didn’t say anything, but what could he say to that statement.  
  
“But Buck thinks he fixed it.”  
  
“Right nice of you to let him think that.”  
  
“He’s done a lot the past few weeks. Least I could do.”  
  
Vin huffed out a little chuckle and pulled his quilt higher so only his head peeked out.  
  
“You gonna share that quilt, Tanner?” Chris asked with mock menace.  
  
“Think I could be persuaded,” Vin said, his voice taking on a husky tone.  
  
It felt right and it felt good. But there was only one problem. “My head’s pounding, Vin, and you’re likely to fall asleep on me just as things start to get interesting.”  
  
“True enough,” Vin said with a clearly disappointed sigh.   
  
Chris ran his fingers over the soft skin of Vin’s hip, wondering if he really was acting so strange that Buck would ride all the way out there to try to fix things. Vin would tell him if it were true.   
  
“Chris?”  
  
“Hmmm,” he asked, comfortable and on the good side of a little drunk.  
  
“How long do you think it’ll be before you don’t got a headache no more?”  
  
“Probably about the same time you stop hurting.”  
  
Vin shifted backward so Chris was spooned around him, getting comfortable. They fit together right from the start and Chris had no idea how happy such a little thing could make him.  
  
“That’s good to know,” Vin said with a sigh. “Could be another week or two.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Chris said, giving Vin’s hip a soft squeeze. And he wasn’t. He was right where he belonged.  
  
*****  
  
The End

  
  
  


 


End file.
